It suddenly now occurs to me that most people will have no idea who Heath the Rat really is. They may have read the dedication at the top of the website, but that offers only the sparsest of clues as to the true nature of this incredible creature.
Pictures of Heath the Rat do exist, though I won't be able to put one up here until I am somewhere with a scanner, which university computers most definitely do not have. However, rest assured, when I get home (and if I remember), I will put up a photo of Heath the Rat, and everyone can admire him for the fine creature that he is.
Anyway, Heath the Rat is not actually a Rat at all. He was once described by a two year old genius (me, to be precise, though I am now considerably older than two, in case you couldn't tell) as "a cat and a rat and a bomber". The former was indisputably accurate. The second was perhaps inspired by the fact that within the house, Heath was indeed referred to as a rat. The latter, however, defies explanation. Perhaps it was that I had only recently seen an aeroplane which I thought was a bomber fly over our house. Quite why I should connect this with Heath is an entirely different matter. But anyway, the fact remains, Heath was a cat and a rat and a bomber.
Born in 1982, Heathcliffe was one of a litter of kittens, the other names of which I can no longer remember, if indeed I ever knew. He was also completely mental, a condition only worsened with the arrival of a baby (that's me, folks) in the household the next year (on July 17th, if anyone wishes to send birthday presents or cards, which I'm sure they don't). Hence forward, he lived outside in the garden, approaching the house only at night for his evening meal. His stupidity can be demonstrated when we recall the fact that when it rained, he ran along underneath the washing line to keep dry. A little track in the grass beneath the line emerged there over its thirteen or so years of use, which lingered for a number of years after Heath's death, which occurred in 1994 as a result of an accident involving Heath, a rather large truck and the inability on Heath's part to recognise that the middle of the road is not a good place to sleep.
He achieved no worthwhile things in his life, and is not mentioned in any history book of the 1980's or 1990's. However, he does like to be remembered, and this is why, over seven years after his death, I am putting up a memorial site to him.
Yet Heath's spirit did not die with his body. After his death, one of our other cats, Albert, starting picking up Heath-like characteristics. He too used the track beneath the washing line and towards the end of his life, began to live primarily outside. Sadly, Albert died when he was about seven, due to similar circumstances as those in which Heath met his unfortunate end. After Albert's death, the torch has been passed to Victoria, Albert's sister, who is not quite as mental as Heath and Albert, but is getting there.
Anyway, end of article here because I need to go to a lecture. Oh, and one more piece of advice that I have for people who are going to university: if you join the university chess club, bear in mind that everybody else in the club will be very, very, very good at chess. I didn't bear this in mind and that it why I lost five games within one hour last Monday.