by Catherine Rice
PIWAQUETTE ANN RICE
2/14/84 10/10/03
Piwaquette was born in a tenement building in East Boston, the single kitten in the litter on Valentines Day, 1984. Her mother was barely mature enough to have kittens. She was initially mistaken for a rat, since she was covered with dirt and soot from the furnace room where she was born. Little did anyone realize what a beautiful, fluffy white kitten was hidden beneath. She was then taken on a bus home in a picnic basket to meet her adopted Daddy in Amherst, Massachusetts (Life #1 of 9 saved). Her name originated from a movie in the 1960s entitled Bell, Book and Candle, starring Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak. In the movie, Kim played a witch, and had a black cat named Pyewacket. The spelling was changed to be more unique.
When her Daddy (a.k.a. Bruce) moved to Rochester that same year, Waquettes Grandma and Grandpa Rice kitten-sat, setting her up in their greenhouse. She was almost evicted from the greenhouse when an opossum moved in and began eating all her food. Grandpa saved the day (and Pis life) by kicking the beast out (Life #2 saved).
A month later, Pi moved to Rochester to be with her daddy. She was allowed outdoors, where she followed her Daddy on walks around the neighborhood, darting from bush to bush. Waquettes next move would take her to the city, where the great outdoors was not quite so wonderful. The first day out, a mean old tomcat chased her more than 50 feet up a tree and circled round the base, hoping to get a nice white morsel. Finally, her Daddy came outside, saw the tomcat and scared it away. She then scurried down backwards and jumped into her Daddys arms, safe again and very relieved (Life #3 saved).
In 1987, Bruce was forced to move into an apartment with a no-pet policy. He tried valiantly to find a temporary home for Piwaquette by asking friends and acquaintances, but with no success. Finally, the Friday before the Fourth of July weekend, he had to take her to the Humane Society. It was a very bleak moment in both their lives. The very next day Bruce was sadly describing the horrible story to his friend and coworker, Jeanne at the bank where he worked. Jeanne piped up that she would gladly take Pi and that he should go get her out of the slammer. The Humane Society reopened on Tuesday after a long weekend that lasted an eternity, and Bruce reclaimed his beloved kitty. She then moved in with his friend Jeanne and her family and became the self-appointed queen of the neighborhood (Life #4 saved).
A few years later, after Bruce had met Cathy (a.k.a. Mommy) they bought a house in the same area. Cathy brought her dog, Cintar into the picture. Although Piwaquette seemed settled in the friends house, Jeanne recognized that she truly belonged with Bruce and Cathy (and vice versa). However, they hesitated to bring a dog and cat who had never met into one house together. But it didn't take long before we all agreed that it was best if Piwaquette move in. There was no denying the bond between Bruce and Piwaquette. While the main concern was that the dog would eat the cat for dinner; nothing was further from the truth. The 11-lb. cat DEFINITELY could eat the 50-lb. dog! Many tiffs ensued (mainly hissing & swatting on the part of the cat), with the dog slinking away, tail between her legs. Pis favorite hobby was sitting atop the refrigerator, batting a green magnet aimed at Cintars head, as she sat on the floor below. She succeeded a few times.
When the dog passed away a few years later, Piwaquette became an only child, spoiled rotten by her adopted parents, sitting on laps and sleeping peacefully much of the day. She had the run of the house, a comfy, fleece window perch to watch birds, birthday parties every Valentines Day (complete with tuna & candles, hats and noisemakers!), a Christmas stocking, and Easter basket. Her daily routine included trapping her Daddy by jumping into his lap in the morning, while watching the news, then jumping onto his chest as he lay on the sofa at night. There they slept contentedly until the wee hours.
From the very beginning, Bruce called Piwaquette with a whistle (never "here kitty, kitty"). Also when she felt like it, she would come to a "tick, tick, tick" sound you can make, like you use to make a horse go--which was appropriate since she sounded like a whole herd when she ran down the stairs to greet us. As she got older she developed the very special habit of vocalizing her greetings and surprise. When we'd wake her from a sound sleep she'd exclaim "WaaWoW"! But when she was simply happy to see us she'd say "rrrWow" or sometimes just "Wow". She was an unusually photogenic cat, which led to thousands of photos being taken throughout her life enough to fill a gallery! Home videos were also taken, complete with sound effects (purring, of course).
She led a good life for 19 years and died peacefully at home, her loving mother at her side. She will always be
remembered for her unique personality and the unconditional love she freely gave to us.