Dorothy L. Sayers – a.k.a. Dotty
Aug/1987 - 7/May/2004
“The youngest grand old lady you could meet”
We acquired Dotty whilst I was still at DEC in 1987, from a fellow Deccie. Within a year, she had had her first kittens, whereby hangs a tale; it was Daniel’s 2nd birthday on March 8th 1988 and he had moved into a bunk bed from his cot for the first time that night. At about 2 a.m., I was awoken by plaintive mewing noises and, upon entering the boys’ room, discovered Dotty and 8 kittens at one end of Dan’s bed, on the (now slightly sullied) brand new quilt, whilst he was asleep at the other end. We woke the children and they all took turns cuddling Dotty and congratulating her and stroking her and the kittens.
Before she was eligible for neutering, she had another set of kittens, this time on the turn of the stairs in our house, one rainy afternoon.
As a half-Siamese, she never showed her age, but in latter years, she slowed up and her vision deteriorated. But she had daily knockabout fights with our other cat, Dashiel Hammett (“Dash”) and held her own.
On one occasion my sister brought her dog round and Dotty went for him fearlessly and the poor dog scarpered, well and truly beaten up.
She slept on our laps, she slept on our beds and she was a warm and loving pet all her life. She purred when she was stroked. She sang occasionally, much to our surprise as there never seemed a cause. She presented us with dead frogs one spring, but never again in any other year.
On 7th May 2004, we found Dotty just sitting outside, shoulders hunched up and staring at the floor. She was brought in, but took no notice of food and, during the day, lost the use of her rear legs. We made her comfortable on the sofa, and there, about 8 p.m., I stroked her as her last shallow breaths ceased. She gave one last long stretch – and died.
She was buried in our garden, amid much tearfulness, by Wendy, Dan and me, this morning.
- Andy Leslie, 8th May 2004