Sunday, April 25, 2010

Old Man Jordie

This entry was supposed to be about Anzac Day and the classic foodie tribute to our fallen heroes, the Anzac biscuit.  But at dawn this morning, my husband and I awoke to our old puss, Jordie, in extremely poor shape.  Sick, lethargic, eyes downcast, not even a hint of a purr and a total lack of appetite signalled that there was something horribly wrong.  We cancelled our roadtrip plans and instead took him to the vet.  The news was grim: Jordie's system was shutting down, fast, and with no obvious signs of the cause (apart from a moderate heart murmer), there were limited options.  We made the most difficult decision a pet owner must inevitably face - to end his suffering and put him to sleep. 

Jordie was a 12 year old, fluffy, cuddly, "big boned" domestic cat.  I adopted him five years ago from a couple who were moving to a place where they could not keep pets - a favour to friends of a friend.  He took no time at all to settle himself in to my home; the first night, he self-righteously pushed his way under the doona and curled up against the small of my back, taking advantage of my warmth.  Since then, his aggressively affectionate nature has appealed to house guests (mooching figure eights around their feet), small children (amiably going all "rag-doll" like when small arms would struggle to lift his 8.5 kilogram frame), and even supposed cat-haters (my father, who begrudgingly would scratch his chin after Jordie muscled his way onto his lap). 

I know he was "just a cat".  I've owned pets who've lived and died; stroking fur as the vet injects the green dream, a small soft body going limp in my arms.  Or back on the farm, where countless pets met an untimely end - too many times to count, all in my childhood years.  But he was still my furry friend; my "snuglepuss", my old man Jordie.  Always there when I walked in the door, with his slightly arthritic limp and gutteral hungry miaow.  Yesterday afternoon I had a long nap, and he curled up in the crook of my arm for two whole hours - he must have been so hot under the sheets - reluctantly, gently, creeping out of bed as I slowly awoke.  I will miss lovingly cursing him, as I pick white hair out of my clothes.

Quinoa Anzac Biscuits


2 tbs golden syrup
2 tbs water
150g butter
1 1/2 cups quinoa flakes (or rolled oats)
1 cup SR flour
1 cup dessicated coconut
3/4 cup brown sugar (firmly packed)


Heat oven to 180deg; line two baking trays with non stick paper.  Melt butter in a small pan with golden syrup and water.  Sift flour into a large bowl; add quinoa flakes, coconut and sugar, and stir.  Add golden syrup and butter mix, add to dry ingredients and stir until it all comes together in a dough.  Roll into golf ball sized balls, place on tray and press down slightly with the back of a fork.  Cook in oven for 12 minutes, let cool on tray before removing gently.

"Lest we forget"


cuzikim said...

awww...r.i.p. jordie xxx

Taya Jo said...

Beautifully written piece for Jordie

Rachel said...

Lovely xoxo

ninevah said...

He was a great cat and Kitten will have BIG boots to fill. He wasn't "just a cat", he was a valued family member. Thinking of you all xx