Misha.

I’ve been trying to figure out all morning how to put something here without sounding too maudlin.  I usually try to be somewhat upbeat in my little missives,  since I can usually show the humour in just about anything.

There’s not going to be too much humour on the home front today I’m afraid.   Our now 14 year old cat,  who was showing some signs of getting on when we were back home in August,  took a rather dramatic turn for the worse on the weekend and his proper owner,  our younger daughter has had to make the final arrangements for him today.

 

 

Now,  I say “our” cat,  since even though he’s really and truly my daughter’s cat, he decided to bond with ME when she went off to school all those many years ago.

I have no idea what he was thinking.  I was on straight afternoons, and he’d wait for me every single night in the front window,  since he knew the sound of my truck as I backed up the driveway.  If it happened to be a night when garbage or recycling had to be put out for the next morning,  he’d start running frantically from the front window up to the corner office to check on my whereabouts. 

Maybe because I was the only one awake at that precise moment?     I’d fuss over him a little,  go down to the basement,  give him his nightly rations, which of course meant he would follow me,  and sequester him down there for the night.  I didn’t need to be woke up in the middle of the night by my “friend”. 

So in spite of that, or maybe because of it, this was the routine every single night. 

He would have made a pretty good “shop” cat as well,  since he had no fear of power tools whatsoever,  and sat and watch intently as I first tore apart,  and then remodelled our kitchen.   For some of the times when I needed to be more persuasive,  I was using a reciprocating saw.  Have you ever heard a reciprocating saw?   He didn’t mind.  He was right in there.   Probably should have has some little safety glasses for him,  but I’m not sure how I would have kept them on his head.  He’d prefer you left your kids out in the car, (he wasn’t keen on children)  but if you wanted to fire up a rotary hammer,  bring it on!

I never quite understood that.

Here are a couple snippets from what could be heard during the reno:

“Why aren’t you running away"?”  (he’d just look at me)

“Don’t go near that,  that’s hot.”

“Oh man! Don’t lie in the sawdust!”  (you saw all that fur on him, right?)

“Come out of there!”

“Look,  I’m just going to have to put you downstairs”.

 

This went on for many days….

 

****

 

I know I’ve muttered things under my breath when he’d get in the dining room,  chew on the plants and then barf in an oh so convenient place,  or any of the other times when having a fur shedding,  stuffed animal humping,  pooping in the freshly changed kitty litter “friend” underfoot,  was perhaps not my idea of fun.   Not to mention the times he’d bolt for the front door,  since he was an indoor cat,  but always wanted desperately to get out!   We tried the leash program,  but that didn’t really work.  If my daughter went out on the front lawn with one of her bunnies and the cat,  the bunny would be free to run around,  but the cat had to be tied up.   She’d get some strange looks from passers-by.

 

So going home now to a house without a cat is going to be a bit of a different experience.   Even later on when he moved in with my daughter and son-in-law when they had their apartment,  we could always go and visit.  That will no longer be an option.

 

And this is the unfortunate finality of the whole thing.

 

We’re going to miss him.

 

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