Arkham the cat (2008-2018)

I met Ben's cat the same crisp summer night that I got to Malmesbury. Ben said "This is Arkham", and I said "Like the Asylum of Batman's comic books? Or like the town in Lovecraft's stories?", to what he replied "I like you already". At the time Arkham was quite energetic, scratching the stairwell carpet and dashing through the house at the sight of people. He also was prone to biting and scratching, and the first days we gave each other some distance. But he quickly grew on me, and I on him, likely due to me feeding him in the mornings, or whenever I got from work before Ben, which was often.

Arkham liked to spend the day somewhere around the Mundens, the house where I was couchsurfing for a while (in Harry Potter's room, a cupboard under the stairs). He would disappear among the bushes and leave the garden, sometimes hunting birds, sometimes fighting other cats or seducing lady cats. He surely missed that when we moved to Seedwood Cottage, which did not have a garden (not a big one at least) and was too close to the road to let him wander for the first few months that we spent there. He got used to being inside, especially in the cold winter nights that followed, and he never became quite as adventurous as he used to be - in fact, he started losing fights the following spring, one of which left him with an ugly wound to the fore leg.

everyone was in the other room playing games, while he was taking full advantage of the drying socks

Arkham was one more of the Seedwood Cottage family. Ben, as his owner, loved him like a son, and Gareth and the cat kept a respectful distance from one another, but secretly were fond of each other. Myself, I don't think I've ever met such a cool animal. He was extremely vocal (as in, almost talking to people - admittedly mostly to demand food), curious, and a good hunter. He purred like a helicopter and in almost any circumstance. He often drove one crazy in the morning, meowing until he was fed, but I ended up missing that in the, ever rarer, ocasions that he wasn't around. He also attacked a streak of Spanish bacon that I'd brought home on Christmas, but it's cool. We settled that up like adults.

His health had been deteriorating since last autumn. Yesterday, Ben told us that he was terminal, and he passed away this morning. He will rest in the Mundens' garden, as he should.

He was just a cat. None less.

Goodbye, mate.