Donut entered our lives on a cold and windy night in early December. I found him in a strip mall parking lot. I went to see if he had a collar on, since he looked way too fat to be a stray.
Turns out he was a stray. A stray who was living on hand-outs from Dunkin’ Donuts. Believe it or not, he’s still a kitten, which means he may be larger than your average golden retriever by the time he’s done.
He’s obnoxious to the other cats, has almost taken my hand off when I tried to keep him from getting outside again, has a purr that could melt glaciers, and tolerates P’ito’s abuse without blinking. Behold.
Because I use P’ito’s Real Name in these clips, and because there is some nekkid baby tush in them, these videos are password-protected. It’s the same password as I used before; if you’ve lost it or don’t have it, leave me a comment with your email and I’ll send it to you if you don’t seem like a creepy child pornographer.
If I don’t send it right away, it’s probably not because I think you’re creepy, I’m just busy.
On that note, back to grant applications I should have done a month ago.
There’s a brown smudge on the toilet bowl I can’t quite bring myself to clean up. It’s not poop, it’s catfood that I flushed down the toilet on Thursday, after Louie didn’t want to eat any of his dinner. He had had kidney problems for a long time, but had been doing well until recently.
On Thursday, we brought him to the vet. On Friday morning, the vet called and said that we needed to talk about Options. On Friday night, my sweet sweet kitty went to sleep for the last time.
Louie was my baby. He was my kitty that I got when Pili and I were first dating, who was never happier than when he was stretched out in my lap, having his chin scratched. He slept on my pillow and let me rest my head on him. When I was sad, I could hold him like a doll and cry into his fur. He “caught” catnip mice and brought them to us, and wouldn’t shut up until you took the mouse and told him what a good hunter he was. When he wanted to sit on my lap, he would put one paw on my leg first. He put up with the other cats, tolerated Pili, and loved me unquestioningly.
He knew me before I was who I am now and losing him feels like losing a piece of myself.
Goodbye LouLou. I hope there are warm laps, bowls of milk, and wiggly bathroom ties whereever you’ve gone.
We miss you so very very much, my loulou patootoo mr. spots. I wish I could have you back for just one more snuggle.
I wish you were here to lick the tears off my face right now.
Someone found this blog searching for “can a cat be reincarnated as a child.”
I hope so, because Sambar would make an awesome kid.
Thank you so much for all your love and support. Yesterday was so awful – coming home and finding her, then discovering that mice had been hard at work in the drawers of the linen cabinet when I went looking for an old blanket to wrap her in… Your thoughts and kind words made it better.
Today I was driving to the vet with her body to have it cremated when I noticed that ahead of me there was a beautiful rainbow. I’m not sure what I believe about life beyond, but this certainly seemed like some kind of message from Sambar – that she is in a better place, filled with catnip and cream and rice and tilapia (strange cat, our Sambar).
Except rest in peace, my sweet sweet Sambar kitty. You will be sorely missed.
You charmed even non-cat people. You sat patiently by as sticky-fingered two-year olds fondled your ears a little too roughly. You had the softest fur in the world. You were a rag doll in our arms, happy to be cradled and kissed. When I picked you up, you put your paws around my neck. You loved to burrow under the covers and make a nest for yourself. You had to sit on the newspaper when someone was reading it. You knew your name, and you would come inside when Pili called you. You cuddled with the other cats and kept them in line with your iron paw.
You will be sorely, sorely missed, my sweet spicy spunky Sambar Cat.
to your regular photo friday edition. But not without first saying Thank You Thank You Thank You for all your wonderful Guatebaby comments. We are definitely saving those for the baby book. “Look sweetie chubbycheeks, lots of people in the internet love you. And we do too. night-night”
On that note. E is for…
Early Morning. Actually, I was just going to bed.
Those of you who are already parents, please resist the urge to tell me how much my life is going to change in a few months, okay?
After a night of intense conversations about work-life-family-choices coming down the pike, and a stupid fight over baby names that really had more to do with the fact that we are both E for Exhausted, this is how I felt.
But I can’t leave you without a little cuteness. So, behold the cats.
C is for CHOCOLATE. Also for carton, almost empty. And carbs. The horrible thing about eating ice cream is that when the carton gets most of the way empty, it’s more embarrassing to put it back in the freezer and have Pili say, with raised eyebrow, where did all the ice cream go? when she looks in the
half almost empty container then it is to just finish it off and have the container go in the trash unnoticed.
In which case, B must be for bolus. (And in this case, alas, B is also for Breakfast.)
I think I want to do a project of a diabetes alphabet in pictures.
A = alcohol swabs
B = bolus, blood
C = carbs
D = diabetes (how to photograph that? Or perhaps D = depression?)
E = exercise
F = fat (? again how to photograph – a stick of butter?)
G = glucose tabs
H = hate it (!) HBA1C
I = insulin, injection, infusion site
To be continued… your suggestions welcome.
And just because I know you knew I couldn’t resist:
C is also for…
Cat. Close-up. Cute. Cuddly.
Cats. All four of them. On the bed. At one time.
I was in Targhay, searching for the elusive out-of-season plant stand and a new light for the
guest room baby room to be. And somehow I found myself wandering next to a clearance rack of incredibly tiny clothes. And before I knew it, this had made its way into my shopping cart.