Happy New Year everyone and I hope 2011 is being kind to you already. Things got off to a sad start here at the Ark when our oldest furry resident passed away.

Harlie – the Ark's oldest four legged resident.

At 18, Harlie – short for Harlequin because of his black and white markings – was by far the Top Cat in the Moggie Mob. Even the Terrible Twins did as they were told when Harlie was dishing out orders with a swipe of a paw. 

Like so many of the Ark’s reside, Harlie came into our lives in a rather unusual manner when Master 12 was just six months old. 

For days we had been hearing a sound from under our house and had come to the conclusion a cat had dropped a litter of kittens there.  Repeated attempts to locate the said kittens failed and finally one day my mother arrived with a cat cage and some fresh mince in hand to sort the situation out.

After much coaxing, out from beneath the house came the skinniest, most frightened young cat imaginable. 

Of course, my mother promptly called Master Six – now Master 18 – to come and see what we had found. Within 10 minutes Harlie was named and sitting in the laundry in front of a dish of food while we phoned the vet (who incidentally put Harlie at around five years of age).

Every year there are books and movies about rescued animals that go on to show huge appreciation of and love for their rescuers. Harlie was not one of those animals.

Harlie did not especially like anyone or anything; in fact I have never met an animal or a person quite as grumpy as Harlie. The only person he really liked – and would go in search of for hours – was Master 12.

That grumpiness, of course, became his trademark and part of his charm. However, over the past year Harlie aged quite significantly.  He didn’t appear to be in pain and his coat was glossy but he was skinnier than ever and often difficult to wake up.  He could manage only soft food and for the first time his grumpiness waned. 

One day just before Christmas Harlie simply took himself off and never returned. Eventually we found him in what may have been the most fitting spot of all – under the house. In typical, Harlie fashion he even dictated how things would end.

Master 12 to, who had been Harlie’s best friend for nearly 13 years, said very quietly, “he just went home, Mum.”