R.I.P. Heathcliff

Today, sadly, we all said goodbye to our beloved family cat, Heathcliff.  He was quite a character - deserving of the name. Unfortunately his cancer had spread and he was no longer eating or drinking,so the vet suggested the only kind thing. He has had a good life - at least 17 years of it, so no regrets. This is Heathcliff in his prime: -

He once belonged to another poet, William Scammell, and came to me when Bill died of cancer in 2000.  Bill wrote a poem about the cat who walked through the door out of a stormy winter night to take up residence in his house, sleeping on his bed and giving him comfort in his last days.  Heathcliff was a very special cat.

We have been adopted by a black cat
with a white bib and paws.
Almost a designer cat,
who pushes his affections
into your stomach as though
he was making bread.
He's come from nowhere,
the exact spot you yourself are headed for.

Poem copyright the Estate of William Scammell, 2000.


  1. I am so sorry to hear about Heathcliff. What a handsome and proud cat he is/was/will be.


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