George was my first cat. He was also a bottle-fed cat and for whatever reason, he grew up with a lot of attitude. I didn't know from owning a cat, he didn't know from being raised as a cat, but he was mine for just over fifteen years.
He hated being groomed. So, as he got older, I had him shaved once the weather warmed up in order to remove his knotted and matted fur. Because he was pretty bad-ass, I had him given a mohawk.
George was a Gravity Inspector. If he could knock something on the floor, he did.
He loved water, preferring to drink the stuff dripping out of a faucet.
He also liked people food, especially seafood and beef. But it had to be cooked! Once, I tried giving him some slices of raw beef, as I was informed that cats go nuts for it. Not George! He sniffed at it, looked at me as if to say: "What the fuck, this shit's not even cooked!" and he stalked off, radiating displeasure.
He loved his toys, especially small balls. He'd bat them from one end of the apartment to the other, chasing and, so it seemed, dribbling them like a champion soccer player. Of course, he preferred to do that in the middle of the night, because he was George, and that was what he did.
A friend of mine said that he was a shitcake, and he could indeed be all that. But he was my cat, I loved him, and I think he probably loved me as much as he could.
I miss him so.
Sorry about George - it was like I got to know him. I was gone for three months and I think mine missed me. There can always be another.
ReplyDeleteThere can be another cat, true. But there can never be another George.
DeleteSo true Comrade, for George as it is for all lost loved ones. I was saddened when I read that George had let you know it was time to go, but I think no one ever lets go. There will always be a George-sized hole in your heart, that your new cats can snuggle up to, and whose edges they can soften, but that they can never truly fill. Nor should they.
Delete"Closure" is a fantasy that has no more meaning than "I know how you feel."
Thank you for reminding us of the depth and longevity of love.
I still look for my cat, Sandy, she used to sleep on my chest.. 1 paw on my beard..gone 4 years...
ReplyDeleteWith that catitude there was an expressiveness.
ReplyDeleteThe come and they go in time but,
they never leave us.
Eck!
Pets ARE our companions, regardless of others may think or believe, they are OURS... :-)
ReplyDelete