"Punkin Doodle"
9.5x12" acrylic on decorative edged wood
(C) Cara Bevan 2011
punking doodle white grey tabby cat portrait acrylic painting
  He went by two names, the nicknames we gave two genius carpenters that once worked for Ricky L. Bevan Construction. His full name is Punkin Doodle. We used
different variations and short versions, but he was mainly known as Doodle.

  Doodle was born on July 7th, 1994, to a white calico mother named Nubby. He had four siblings, and of them only one brother. Doodle grew up like the others, hand
raised and spoiled with love, but he never bonded like his sisters had. He quickly became known as the feral; the knight. He learned to be a prolific hunter, catching all
manner of furry and feathery creature. Although his mother was extremely social, Doodle didn’t want any of it. He preferred staying by himself and searching the woods for
anything new. To the humans he trusted, mainly the food providers, he was loyal and loving. Everyone else was a threat he was sure to avoid. His mother and sisters,
however, he defended with all his power. It got him and his brother Simba into many fights. Some weren’t so pretty and we had to intervene. The “prince” Simba didn’t like
his knightly brother one bit, but Doodle was wise to keep to himself until mealtimes.

  Despite being territorial, he allowed feral cats to visit. He even made friends with berserker cat Louie (and no other cat has been able to do that.) When fights did occur,
Doodle stood his ground and was hardly the instigator. With a will of steel he’d scream like a banshee and puff up. When the claws came out, the other cat always ran. As
Doodle aged, he stayed by the porch and surrounding woods to nap in the afternoon sun. He was quick to defend himself if he had to, but quarrels with Simba faded with
time. He continued to hunt though. While his siblings retired to a lazy life, he and his mother kept moving. He always seemed to have one eye open.

  After the death of sister Sassy, Doodle’s attitude changed. He dropped the feral act and became a loving, needy cat. With one pat, which he timidly accepted, he wouldn’t
leave you alone. He called with a pleading “M-ow” as if echo-locating, then roll around in the grass. He’d call even if someone was with him. Doodle remained easy to spook,
running away at the slightest movement he deemed threatening. Yet his teen years were spent living peacefully and happily with his family. Then another sister died, and
soon after his brother Simba. Doodle was left with his senile mother and a grumpy sister. He enjoyed the company of both. Every night they’d sleep together, piled so tight
you couldn’t tell where one cat ended and the other began. He stopped hunting because of arthritis, but he still roamed the nearby woods in case something new was there.

  It was sudden. Doodle didn’t wake from his afternoon nap March 13th, 2011. He was 16. We were saddened by his sudden loss, but there was comfort in his final
moments. Doodle had been weak the previous day and sister Nala never left his side. As he rested in a heated cat bed, Nala laid beside him even after he stopped
breathing. She seemed to smile when we found them, as if saying, “I know. He’ll be alright.”
Punkin Doodle
(July 7th, 1994 – March 13th, 2011)
Cat Gallery
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