Dashel was a literal rescue cat. At an orchid nursery in Hilo, Cassandra heard tiny mews and looked around to see a very large dog with a small ball of fur in its mouth. The dog surrendered the little creature. With no person or mother cat in sight, C put the kitten in her van and took her home. Dashel wasn't even weaned, so C and daughter Keely learned about bottle feeding. Dashel was not warmly welcomed by Kitty -- another story -- but the two learned to tolerate each other and invented a game: race and chase. Dashel was an adventure cat, always seeking the highest point, inside or out, and wasn't immune to injury. When Bob and C moved to Oregon, so did she. In all, we had nearly 18.5 years together. The kids left and Kitty died, but Dashel stayed, always adapting to her several new homes and always hating trips to the vet. While C wrote, Dashel provided encouragement from the lap. She acquired classic feline maladies, hyperthyroidism and kidney trouble, but kept going, even when fence and table tops got too tall to jump onto, then chair seats, and then, finally, even our bed. We jerry-rigged access so, to the very end, we snuggled together through the chilly nights, so different from the ones we'd left behind in Hawaii. Dashel was small as cats go, but without her the hole in our lives is large.
OREGON STATE UNIVERSITY
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