Valedictions Riff-Raff

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Riff-Raff our little pink-eyed white died last night. It was, to quote the ironic title from Simone de Beauvoir's novel, a very easy death. Cradling him by the window late at night, the evening's breeze carrying the smells of the outside world to him, he just gradually ran out of breath, the faintest tremor rumbling through his body in the last seconds. It was obvious enough by late last night that his time was very near, and a certainty when he showed interest, but did not eat, an offering of his favourite foods.

Much fondness can be drawn in recollecting the life of our little companion, who was always gentle and exceptionally amicable. In his youth he showed great interest in the female of the species, spending some time with Naughty and Tricky and thus probably responsible for the collection of ratlings from the 2012 NYE (his flatmate, Nomad, may have been involved too, but he never showed the same level of interest). His mutual friendship and playfulness with Mac the cat was also quite a source of wonderment, right until his last days.

No dirge for our Riff-Raff. Instead, in his parting, his name-sake song is offered.

Comments

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He most certainly did, and I think he enjoyed ever minute of it. At worst in his last days he looked tired, rather than pained.

Like the rest of us will, he's back to the cycle of stardust.