Fritz Immemorial

-photo from The Fritz website

Yesterday I decided to spend the afternoon, or at least part of it, at a sappy romantic movie, Nights of Rodanthe, starring Richard Gere and Diane Lane. It was playing at the local Cinema which is actually referred to as Central Hall and more affectionately called The Fritz after the name of an orphan cat that decided to make the Hall its home early in the new millenium and who was, much to the horror of islanders, struck and killed in 2007.

One long time islander of 35 years told me how Fritz just showed up one day and never left. People would actually stop their cars on the way to the North End if they passed the cinema and saw Fritz lounging ever so superior on the front steps. Just for a little pat.

Someone even made Fritz his own little cat house. I think it was a replica of Central Hall but the perfect feline pad for Fritz to lay his paws and whatever else. He even had a bed made of Salt Spring lambswool and a little curtain for privacy.

There is something so absolutely refreshing about going to a movie where the movie trailers aren't loud, loud scenes of shooting, killing, sex and profanity but instead idyllic photographs of scenery from the island. Sheep faces. Sunsets. And, more than a few pictures of the late and infamous Fritz, lolling about in the sun and posing like the sexiest cat on the planet. There's Fritz again stretched out as late fall rays transform his white coat into the colour of some paint chip name like Dr. Zhivago Cream!

Somebody has even written two books on Fritz. What a brand! What a persona! The epitome of cool in which cool just is, it doesn't have to be anything but what it is. Apparently, that was Fritz. Even the name fits. Like Cher. Madonna. No need for a surname when it came to Fritz.

Somebody even tried to kidnap Fritz once but they were spotted in the ferry line-up, the cops were called and Frtiz was retrieved. I'm not making this up.

Some time in 2005 some woman expressed concern for Fritz. He could get run over she said to which those who were closest to the old boy said, No, don't worry, he's car smart!

I guess they were wrong. In the end, he was still just a cat and I guess his ninth life had run its course but like Elvis, his legend lives on. In fact, I think I heard that someone thought they saw Fritz just the other day in an old Barn at Ruckle Point.