A sad day for all of us who admired and loved Trapper. As a nineteen year old cat, or 114 cat-years old if you count 6 cat-years for each human year, Trapper was as personable as ever despite his diminishing size. Despite his increasing frail condition, he was hiking down the ledge, all 290 feet of it, to reach the lake and to drink what to him was the best water that a cat could drink. Jill helped him climb back up the ledge on his last two trips, reminiscent of those evenings when he would hide on the driveway at camp in the dusky time, waiting for Jill to come get him because it was time for him to be safely inside the cabin.
Trapper lived all his lives to the fullest. With his presence in the campyard for 15 years, he managed to touch many people's hearts as he would make his rounds of the cabins in the morning, jump up on the Sabotowan roof in the evening to catch bats and survey his kingdom, take a ride in the kayak or canoe for the adventure of it, stand and let a toddler pat him even though he was usually more stand-offish then most cats.
I suspect that Trapper lived 8 of his lives on this earth, and he lives his ninth life in our memories.
