My cat Macro was a stray, born into a litter of four, on the roof of a shopping centre, in a depression around a storm water drain pipe which dropped two stories into the basement. At the age of about one week, Macro rolled over and fell into the pipe, getting trapped in an S bend between the first and second stories.
I was working in an office on the second floor, the pipe running down the inside of our front door, and for several days we could hear meowing from the pipe. Not figuring there was a problem, we let it be as we went home for the weekend. Arriving back at work on Monday, the meowing, now sounding more desperate, continued.
While my boss was more concerned for the possible stench when the kitten would die, I couldn’t stand by while a cat suffered. So we found our way to the roof, and dumped a huge bin of water down the drain. Unfortunately it didn’t free him. Meanwhile the folks in the shop downstairs had called the fire brigade, who turned up several minutes later and blasted the shit out of him by sticking a high pressure hose down the drain from the roof.
Out in the street, they removed the storm water drain grill to look for the remains, and we all watched as a soaking wet shivering little ball of fluff marched triumphantly out of the storm water drain and into the street.
I took the little bugger home, and he lived out the rest of his days the way he walked out of that drain pipe, loving life, violently playful due to his stray background, and a great licker of anyone who would come near. He was a great friend for half my life.
Last Friday, 25th August, almost 17 and a half years after that fateful day at the shopping centre, Macro was put down, having discovered in him an advanced cancer.
After scouring the house, these photos and video footage are all that I have. In some ways, that was so Macro. There isn’t enough time in the day to stop for photos, when there’s a whole bunch of fucking trouble to be made.
A great friend. He will be remembered.