Daphne Sutherland, 1995-2011

She was a Christmas present from my college boyfriend. And while there were many times that I questioned the wisdom of giving a starving student studying to be a nomadic starving actor a small animal that would require money to maintain, I will forever be grateful for the gift of Daphne.


When it came time to choose a cat from the adoption agency, I had my heart set on an orange feline, in remembrance of a former family pet. But there were no orange kitties to be had. The agency representative said they did have a particularly special cat available. Just six months old and incredibly affectionate with a unique personality. We agreed to have them come do a home visit, so we could meet her. Her name was Misty and she was just as they described.


It was love at first purr.


The first order of business: Change her name! I had never before had exclusive naming rights to a living thing. But this long haired kitty, black with white markings, reminded me of the cat Pepé Le Pew tries to romance in the old Warner Brothers cartoons. And I mistakenly believed that cat's name to be Daphne.


(Turns out, it's not!)


Still, Daphne seemed like an elegant name for a feline that appeared to be wearing a white fur stole around her neck. So Daphne she became, despite the efforts of one of my roommates at the time, who thought Boo would be a better moniker.


Her first nickname came along pretty quickly, after a bout of loose stool that got stuck in the hair of her tail and was subsequently transferred to every wall in the apartment as she flicked said tail around: Shitty Kitty.


Subsequent nicknames evolved as time progressed and we discovered that "elegant' was in no way the proper word to describe Daph. So she became Schmaffie, The Schmaf, Schmatty, Schmaffers, etc. Much more fitting.


As a kitten she was quite playful, although had little interest in toys purchased at a pet shop. Her favourites included balled up pieces of paper, which she would pick up in her mouth and bring back to you, or a laser pointer. Laziness set in later in her life, when a bit of half-hearted ribbon chasing was the best she could muster.


She showed an early predilection for boxes of all sorts, which later inspired me to buy this book for Violet. For the past few years we've had various shoeboxes scattered throughout the house for her. Whenever we brought home new shoes, we would place the new box next to an old one and watch her try them both out and figure out which one she preferred. (Always the new one, eventually.)


She was known for lying flat on her belly, with her legs turned out behind her, or sprawled out on her back, fuzzy belly bared for the whole world to see. She also loved to prop herself up against pillows like a human being, never quite understanding why we laughed and took pictures every time. She even enjoyed some Internet celebrity when she made an appearance on this website's popular "Pets on Furniture" feature.


She was well loved by the original crew that helped me welcome her into my world and by my two amazing roommates I lived with for eight years. The Husband was initially intimidated by her - she was known to be a bit crusty and could definitely take a chunk out of you if she was so inclined - but they warmed up to each other and became the best of friends. Even my Mother-in-Law adored her. We regularly brought her with us on trips to Owen Sound. She enjoyed the ride, provided she could sit on on of our laps, and seemed to like having a different space to roam around in for a few days.


I was 20 when I adopted her. She saw me through the end of theatre school, my entire theatre career (including a couple of plane rides to spend the summer at the Charlottetown Festival with me), a few relationships, another round of schooling, the start of a new career, a few apartments (including keeping me company in a bachelor), a marriage, a house and a baby. For almost 16 years, she was the one constant in my life.


I loved her. So much.


Still do.


I will miss her. So much.