Feline Sad: The Obituary of Sir Remy Martin Hennessey Lodice

We regret to announce the passings of Sir Remy Martin Hennessey-Lodice, age 68 (13), on December 15, 2025, in Newtown after a brief battle with cancer.

Born feral on the streets of Waterbury, Remy began life as a gritty street cat. His devotion to food ultimately ended his first life of freedom, when he was lured into castration and domestication (an event traumatic enough to knock out life number two as well). From that day forward, food remained his one true religion for the next 11½ years.

When his future soul-human, B, visited the Danbury Animal Welfare Society, she did not want a black cat and initially paid him no mind. That changed when Remy casually strolled over, bit another cat on the butt, and vanished without consequence. It was an instant bond and soon it was Remy and B against the world.

B took Remy everywhere in her quest to give him the best life possible. Unfortunately, Remy suffered from extreme motion sickness and he would vomit the second the carrier left the ground. Once, he got so turnt it came out of both ends. This didn’t slow them down.

Remy escaped at every opportunity. The only thing that could summon him home? Food. Specifically, Temptations Dairy-Flavored Treats, which sat at the very top of his hierarchy of needs.

His third life ended during a dramatic escape that left B sobbing. After several hours, Remy emerged from hiding in the garage—perfectly on time for breakfast.

His fourth life ended when he jumped off a balcony overlooking a staircase. He never did that again, though he did occasionally fall down the stairs at high speed due to zoomies.

To honor his roots, B provided outdoor time. Remy responded by becoming a professional harness escape artist. Life number five ended in a Remy vs Coyote incident, from which he was heroically rescued by his beloved grandhuma, N. Remy adored her house: elite grass, plus a front door positioned so his howls echoed beautifully, until you either let him outside or… you let him outside.

Life six ended during an attempted second story skydive, stopped just in time by his Aunt M.

Remy possessed an insatiable appetite. He was not a free-feed cat; he would eat until he puked and then eat again. If anyone left the kitchen without something for him, he bit their ankles. He would steal food directly from your mouth and identified snacks by sound alone: whipped cream shaking, rotisserie chicken lids popping, etc. Cabinet locks were installed after he began banging doors in protest. He was generally excellent at detecting poisonous foods, except for that one time… life number seven.

Life eight ended in a tragic misunderstanding involving hyperthyroidism, a leaking ceiling, and a neighbor’s cat. Remy underwent radioiodine treatment and became an official RadioCat, only for it to later be revealed that he was, in fact, framed.

Remy shared an unbreakable bond with B. He followed her from room to room, dog-like and devoted, insisting on being involved in everything. He was a model Prozac patient until the arrival of two baby cats, Nora and Gwen, who made his final year a joy. He taught them the ropes and quietly ran Operation Second Breakfast while letting the girls take the heat.

Remy wasn’t a cuddly emotional support cat. He was a tough love, life support cat. He taught B how to love fully, stay present, be patient, brave, loyal, and strong. He showed her what real connection feels like—the kind that changes you forever.

Remy and B’s bond doesn’t end here; it simply continues in a quieter way. He remains exactly who he always was… ever-present, unforgettable, and deeply loved. The road ahead looks different now, but, for once, it doesn’t give Remy motion sickness.

Remy is survived by his mom, B; dad, C; sisters, S, Nora and Gwen; grandhuma, N; aunt, M; and uncle, J (D); along with an unofficial fan club and Instagram following who loved him dearly. In lieu of flowers, it is asked that donations be made to benefit the Danbury Animal Welfare Society, RadioCat or Dr. Robb’s Protect the Pets.