About a month back our cat, Moe, was sick. We took him to the vet and after a week of antibiotics he was back to his old self, down right kitten-like. He was playful in ways he hadn’t been in years even. Friday evening he took a turn for the worse and deteriorated rapidly Over the weekend. He died on the way back to the vet this morning.
My heart, it feels so shattered and heavy right now. He was always so FULL of life, I thought we had years more time to spend with him.
I’m re-posting an oldie about Moe and his funny antics.
–Originally posted on QuackThis, Monday, May 29th, 2006
A couple of springs ago a pregnant calico cat, I lovingly called Callie, adopted us and took up residence on our front porch. She was the sweetest, most loving, most friendly cat I’ve ever come across. She wasn’t interested in coming inside probably because of our cat, Basil, who was quite the man of the house. So I made her a home on the porch and did my best to meet her every need. When it came time for her to have her babies she went a couple of houses down, crawled under the house, and disappeared for awhile. The house caught fire soon after so hubby rescued her kitties and brought them to our porch. We made a new home for her and her family and she was happy. Of her 4 kittens, we kept two of them; Hisser, a bold colored replica of her mama and Moe, the cutest little orange and white tabby I’ve seen. We found homes for the other two kitties and, as much as it broke my heart, for Callie.
Hisser earned her name when hubby pulled her out from under the house that day. She hissed for the longest time! Moe, however, was just as comfortable with us as anyone could be. Ever curious and quite the independent, he eagerly investigated his new surroundings as much as we allowed. He didn’t like us putting him back with his mama in the home we’d fashioned and it didn’t take long to see that, even at a few weeks, he was king of his domain. This cat had character and answered to no one. Our youngest son named him Moe but never really explained why he chose the name. I don’t think Moe cared either.
Moe fancies himself as head honcho in our house. Problem is, so do I. He sleeps on my side of the bed, I think, because he knows I don’t allow the cats to get on our bed. (yeah, ha ha) When I get up from my desk he makes a bee line for my chair and will stay there until I pick him up and move him. If I’m watching the telly and get up for whatever reason, I come back to the couch and find him in my spot. Many an evening I’ve even had to make him vacate my spot at the table so I could sit down and eat. Several times we’ve stood in some sort of a line, waiting (to the point of hurting almost) to use the bathroom … only to have the door finally open as Moe has decided it’s time to go somewhere else. I don’t know why he likes to go in the bathroom and shut the door behind him, but he does it often. I’m learning to make sure the door is latched before waiting to get in there now as he, of course, doesn’t latch it.
He’s quite talented as well. Weighing in at almost 20 pounds, he’s somehow able to lie discreetly in the floor in wait for my ankle to happen by. He never uses more than one claw, but he’ll puncture the back of my heel with that single claw every chance he gets. If I’m sitting and talking with my hands, he thinks we’re playing ping pong. I’ve currently got a cut on my index finger tip where he got me, again, with just one claw, as I dropped my hand by my side while talking to hubby. I can’t count the number of secret (they are always blank so….) documents he’s scanned and printed. Hubby has a set of desk chimes on his desk that Moe plays with the vigor of Beethoven recreating his latest symphony. He’s flushed the toilet once or twice, has mastered the art of shutting our answering machine down when it dares to speak, knows exactly where the ‘Power Down’ button is on the kids keyboard and can somehow manage to curl up in boxes half his size. When I’m at my desk he lies right behind the chair, blocking me in, as though he’s one upped me.
Hubby and the kids laugh at mine and Moe’s antics and usually tell me to give it up, that he’s boss. I haven’t given up yet and will, somehow, prove to him that he’s in my house. The reason we kept him was because our youngest son wanted a cat for his birthday and Callie had her babies a few weeks before he turned 12. Timing was perfect but I had to convince him he wanted Moe and not one of the others. He had actually picked Moe’s brother at first but I wanted Moe and talked him into it. You’d think the cat would be grateful. I’m sure that one day, despite all his little power plays, he’ll realize that I’m the reason he’s here and cede victory to me.
Yeah, and pigs will fly one day, too.