In addition to roller skating in a buffalo herd...

[Fairportfan]

Roger Miller once wrote that "You can't change film with a kid on your back".

Try typing while an over-enthusiastic kitten insists on snuggling in the crook of Daddy's arm.

...and if you don't cuddle her, she starts exploring and walks on the keyboard or plays with the mouse

[Dave]

Can you train her to ride on your shoulder? Purring in your ear might be less distracting than walking on your keyboard...

[Fairportfan]

Can you train her to ride on your shoulder? Purring in your ear might be less distracting than walking on your keyboard...

For about thirty-two seconds.

Three month old kitten here.

Hyper.

Besides, years ago first wife and i had a cat, known as The Dummy. (It wasn't his official name, and he was really pretty smart, but...)

When we got him in a pet store, he could very comfortably ride in the palm of my hand, but he preferred the shoulder perch.

Which was fine.

Until he hit his full growth. I think he was even bigger than Junior (pictured in the new "Recent phone pix" thread i'm about to start) - well, longer, i'm pretty sure Junior outweighs him.

And he still liked the shoulder perch - with two feet on one shoulder, two on the other, and his body curled 'round the back of my neck. And he nearly took up the full width...

[MerchManDan]

A friend of mine had a cat like that; Gabriel (the cat) would happily allow anyone to wear him like a furry stole. The best part was when he'd purr - it was like a very warm, very light neck massage.
Only problem: Gabe was not slender. Carrying him around was quite a workout; not that I complained.

[ShneekeyTheLost]

I had a Maine Coone which was very afraid of storms. Considering we plucked him out of a storm drain in the middle of one as a kitten, he had every right to this phobia. It was so cute, when he was little, how he would purr and rub up and demand attention whenever a storm drew near...

As a 35 lb adult, it was more along the lines of him latching his claws into whatever you were sitting on, and were then stuck there. To his credit he didn't sink his claws into your lap, but you were effectively 'buckled in'.

[Boxilar]

I have an old Siamese mix named Bud. His parantage was described to me as his mother being a registered Purebreed Siamese and his father being a sneaky ass alley cat. He was small enough to fit in the palm of my and when I got him in '95 and would settle in the crook of my left arm while purring and kneeding. This remained his favorite spoteven after becoming a burly fifteen pound adult. Age is taking it's toll. He's lost muscle mass in the last few years and is down to a "mere" ten pounds or so and is arthritic enough that he's no longer able to leap up onto tables and chairs. If I'm sitting in my recliner or at the computer, I'll often get a persistent MERROW (there is nothing quite like tthe yowl of a Siamesee cat) and a prickle of claws on my leg, insisting on being picked up. He will invariably try to burrow his head into the crook of my left elbow and perch on my left arm. The lap isn't good enough.

Bud is the only cat I've known who let me scratch his tummy. Once he's in his favorite spot, I can roll him over on his back, cradle him in my arm and rub his stomach. He'd basically let me do this all day if I let him. He purrs like a Harley and kneeds the air. It's humbling to realize that this is counter to his instincts and he lets me do it because he trusts me completely.

I neary lost him about a year ago when he picked up a parasitic infection that gave him acute anemia. Before this happened, I would have claimed I'd never spend that kind of money on a mere animal. After draining my savings to pay the kind of money needed to give a kitty a tranfusion, I'll never critizize anyone who does something similar again. Related to the comic, It gives me a bit of perspective where characters like the GGGs are concerned. I was already and adult when I brought Bud home as kitten. I watched him grow from a playful kitten to a Tom in his prime at the hieght of his kitty power, and I've watched his inevitable slide into old age and infirmity. One day soon, I'll find him dead in one of his favorite spots in the house, and then I'll have to bury my friend.

Right now as I type this, I can hear him snoring away in the recliner. Every time I see him sleeping, I have to watch for a moment to make sure I can see him breathing. At seventeen years old (it will be eighteen in June) Bud has lived a very full life for a cat and I feel privlaged in knowing him. When he dies, I'm going to miss him terribly. i wonder if that's how Bud, Brandi and Jin feel about the mortals they've known, loved and lost?

[dadman]

Great story and great question, Boxliar. Thank you.

[Boxilar]

Budlycat.jpg (32.49 KiB) Viewed 6630 times

Bud died on the 16th of February. I've been debating since whether or not to write something like this, partly because I don't want it to be seen as a bid for attention, and partly because up till now, it would have been a little bit to painful to write.

I've had other pets over the course of my life. While I was growing up, there was a dog and several cats. There were the usual rodents, Guinea pigs and gerbils, and the usual fish. I think there was even a hermit crab in there. Bud is the first pet I was wholly responsible for.

In June, he would have been eighteen years old. The way he died wasn't quite how I expected. As I said before, barring some extended illness, I figured I would find him one morning, or evening after coming home from work. Instead, it happened while I was at home, and it took me by surprise.

He might have been a bit lethargic, but as old as he was, he had good days and bad days. I remember that he wanted to be picked up around 6:30 in the evening. I picked him up and cuddled him for about ten minuets or so, then he wanted to get down again. At about ten till 7, he started walking around the living room meowing loudly, then his tail fluffed out and he started growling. Bud hardly ever growled. Then he collapsed and was obviously tring to get back up and couldn't. I tried to pick him up, but he spit at me and clawed my arm, so I put him back down. He crawled to his favorite spot by the living room heater vent and lay down on his side. He was abviously having trouble breathing. I thought about scooping him up and driving to the emergency pet hospital across town, but it was also clear he was dying. his breath was getting more labored by the second, and he hated riding in cars. I didn't want his last moments to be somwhere he hated. So I lay down on the floor next to him and called his name and talked to him. He had stopped growling by this point and was meowing. He was using the same voice he used whenever I came home and first stepped foot in the house after being away for awhile. He was calling for me. He didn't understand what was happening, and was afraid. So I did the only thing I could do. I lay next to him, called his name, and petted him. After what seemed like forever, he stopped crying. Not long after that, he took his last breath. I had to be sure, so I put my ear to his chest. I heard his heart . The triphammer sound was stuttering and irregular and after a long pause there was a final beat and silence.

The whole thing, from his collapse to the last beat of his heart took less than ten minutes. It's at least twenty minute drive to the animal hospital. He would have died in the car.

I've heard plenty of jokes about boneless cats, that when a cat dosen't want to be picked up, they can become an unwieldy mass. Bud was never like that. He always had some muscle tension. So when I picked him up and held him for the last time and he was absolutely limp, it drove home to me that he was really dead. I held him for a few minutes and cried like a baby. I put him in an old box my last pair of workboots came in along with an old sweatshirt he loved to curl up on, took him to my mom's house and buried him in the back yard near some of the other family pets.

Seventeen years is a long time to get used to being around someone. I still miss him in little ways. I have to catch myself when I put the key in the lock, because I'm anticipating a welcoming Merow. The are times when I forget he's gone for a moment and expect him to come out of a back room and I have to remind myself to pick up an food I drop because he's not there to snatch it up. I expected this level of grief when my Dad died. I'm not a wreck or anything, and am fine most of the time, but I am a suprised at how much this has affected me.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't too morbid, but I wanted to share.

[Atomic]

Morbid? Not at all. Thank you for sharing. May all your memories be long and sweet!

[Dave]

You did well by him, Boxilar... he departed knowing that someone who loved him was there and was caring for him. Well done - a lot of us upright tree apes don't have such good fortune and comfort when our time arrives.

May your sorrow soon be healed, and your good memories of Bud remain with you.

[bmonk]

. . . and, when you arrive at your final destination, may Bud be there to welcome you home.

[Boxilar]

Thanks to all of you. I appreciate it.

[Julie]

. . . and, when you arrive at your final destination, may Bud be there to welcome you home.

I second this. *hugs for Boxilar*

[Boxilar]

Thank you Julie.

[Atomic]

And some appropriate music: Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain