One Year Ago Today

 

It's hard for me to realize he's been gone a whole year.  Sometimes in the night, I wake up, thinking I'm hearing him crying.  But then I realize I'm hearing Buster, and his voice is as different from George's voice as it is from Ivy's.  Like the little goodbye poem that says, "Hold me firm and speak to me, until my eyes no longer see," I held him in my arms and kissed him and cried until he slipped away.  But it seems at times he never really left.  The memories of him are still so clear.  He was some cat.  I miss him.

 

 "Cats come and go without ever leaving." - Martha Curtis  

Thursday Photo Challenge: Black and White

 

This Week's Photo Challenge is Black and White.

Naturally, I thought of George. 

Blog Kitties

Here's Buster (or Bubby, Fat Boy, Chubs, Bubs, or any of the hundred names he comes to!)  Buster is a sweet, sweet boy.  Not real smart, but very loving and VERY vocal.  He talks a lot more now that George is gone. 

 

Here's George.  Just seeing his face again brought tears to my eyes.  I miss him.  He was some cat. 

Kim is rounding up pictures of bloggers' kitties today. Why don't you post up a picture of your cat(s)? 

May Yardscapes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

George's Final Resting Place 

Missing George

This morning I was going about my daily chores, emptying the hamper and tossing the dirty clothes and towels down the laundry shoot, where they gather in a pile (I call it Mount Neverdone)waiting to be sorted, washed, dried, folded and putaway (that's a lot of steps, hence the neverdone part).

Anyway, I opened the little trap door in the bottom of the linen closet with an armful of dirty clothes and looked down.  No George.  George always came running when he heard the door to the linen closet open.  He had a fascination--an obsession--with needing to be there when the clothes came tumbling down.  I'd open that little trap door and there he'd be, looking up the shaft.

I promise that I don't intend to keep bringing up George, but this is my place to record the thoughts and events of my life. It's amazing how, when looking back through the archives, I remember the times and events that have happened in my life since I started blogging.  So if it's too indulgent--skip on by; this one's for me, a memory of George.  I don't want these poignant moments to slip by unnoticed or unremembered.

 Doing laundry will never be the same.

I miss George. 

An unexpected reminder

So many things remind me that George is not here.  Some are expected.  When I go down to put a load of laundry in, he isn't there, racing me to the washer.  When I come in the back door, he isn't lounging there right in front of the door.  No meowing in the morning to be fed.

 But just now, I had a rather unpleasant reminder of George's absence.  A smelly litter box.

 You see, George was a fanatic neat-nik when it came to the litter box he shared with Buster.  Buster did not share George's fastidious litter box habits.  He would hop in, leave a bomb, and go take a nap.  So whenever George would see Buster making his way to the litter box, he would wait nearby until Buster would finish and then go cover up whatever Buster left behind.  A true Felix and Oscar relationship.

 I miss my "Felix."

Rest in Peace

Rest in Peace, George.  We loved you. 

Update on Wednesday, March 28, 2007 at 07:15AM by Kim from Hiraeth

Pam left this poem for me in the comments.  I think it says it all.

There's something missing in my home,

I feel it day and night,

I know it will take time and strength

before things feel quite right.

But just for now, I need to mourn,

My heart -- it needs to mend.

Though some may say, "It's just a pet,"

I know I've lost a friend.

You've brought such laughter to my home,

and richness to my days.

A constant friend through joy or loss

with gentle, loving ways.

Companion, friend, and confidante,

A friend I won't forget.

You'll live forever in my heart,

My sweet, forever pet.

More evidence

More evidence of the trouble with cats.

 The trouble with cats is that they are trouble.  The trouble with cats being trouble is that they are so endearing in their troublesome ways.

And oh, so, pretty and sweet. 

 

Interesting search queries

Stopping obsessive cats. . .sorry, I don't have an answer for that but if you do, please leave full instructions in the comments section of this post.

George: The Obsessive Compulsive Cat

George has always been a bit obsessive compulsive. When something catches his attention, he can quickly and annoyingly become obsessed and then exhibit extremely annoying behaviors for an extremely long time.  To his credit, he seems to be able to discern when he is about to get the boot, because when we think we're going to pull out our hair (or his!) he seems to go on to the next obsession, leaving the former behind, never to return to it again.

When he was a tiny kitty, he used to hide behind a chair everytime we let Maxie, our little Yorkie,  go out to go potty.  As soon as Maxie came bounding back into the house, George would strike--pouncing on Maxie and rolling her half way across the entryway.  George never failed to be there, ready to pounce--Maxie never saw it coming.

Then there was the water obsession.  He played in his water bowl.  Did you know a cat can actually pick up a handful of water and toss it into the air and the spike it on the way down?  Trust me, I watched him do it, over and over again.

Then there was the toothbrushing obsession.  He had an uncanny ability to know when someone was going to brush their teeth.  At the time of the toothbrushing obsession, we lived in a huge two story house.   No matter where he was in the house at the time that toothbrushing of any kind happened, he would be there, sitting on the bathroom counter, waiting for that little trickle of water so that he could toss it up into the air and then spike it into the mirror.

Over the years, George has been obsessed with many things.  Melting snow that we track into the house in the winter, bugs, toilet flushing--those are just some I can think of off the top of my head.  There have been many.

 

 Now it's the washing machine.  He loves to lick the little trickle of water that wells up in the gasket and then runs down the front of the washer when I am unloading the wet clothes.  You would think that we never filled his water bowl.  Even if I'm not doing laundry, he tries to lead me to the washer every time I go down to the basement.  This afternoon, he started trying to climb into the washer whenever I load or unload clothes.

Let's hope he doesn't end up like this kitty.