Monday, February 11, 2013
This weekend, the Nerds and I went down to visit Dorothy & Co. I brought my Pink Kitteh (on the left) to visit with her sister, too. We were only there for one night, so it was a whirlwind trip, but we got to meet the New Kittehs, so it was worth it!
I finally came face to face (or belly to belly -- we did a lot of cuddling) with Sir Charles Buttonsworth, who I refuse to call that so I always call him Buttersworth, or Butter.
And Kismet, or Kizzy, who is a crazy, wild kitten:
Kizzy has some issues with getting into EVERYTHING. My sister and her husband are going to do some housework soon, and they were worried they would have to board Kizzy because he will not leave anything alone. I had the perfect solution. Back when Kingie got really sick, I made a misguided attempt to fix the situation (the one where he broke into my home office every night to poo and barf everywhere) by getting a cage for him. He didn't mind the cage at all, but I DID and SO DID WEBSTER. That's when Webster began the Great Stomach Licking of 2010, which has never ended.
Anyway, after Kingie passed away, I put the cage in the basement of Farmhouse Villa -- where I NEVER go. It was expensive, so it's wasting space down there doing nothing. I decided to give it to my sis for any time they need to lock up Kizzy while working on home improvements (or trying to eat a meal).
He loved it. But he did have to gnaw on the bars a little bit and rub his face all over because, no doubt, Kingie's scent was still on there somewhere:
Bringing out the cage was hard for me. I had a true love affair with King that will never be replicated. I adored him even though no one else could stand him. Buttersworth looks SO MUCH like King (except yellow) that I found myself missing my sweet boy.
I miss him sleeping on my head:
I miss him begging for ice disks and MORE WATER:
I miss him sitting around licking off all his belly fur:
I miss him shamelessly lying on the carpet with all of his rolls hanging out:
I miss Webster giving him baths (this photo is from the morning he left us):
I miss him sitting on my lap while I worked:
And how he thought he was "hiding" every time he heard the cat cage coming out to go to the vet:
And how he gracefully tolerated being put in his Christmas sweater each year. This last year, he was so skinny (for him) that he easily walked out of the sweater:
I prefer to remember him this way -- King of his castle. Totally fat. Totally wonderful:
We've all got that one pet in our memory that it was the worst to lose. Decades can go by, and you'll still remember him/her. For Ma, it's our childhood cat, Wilbur. For my sister, it's Sybil Louise. For me, it's King.
Butter is NOT King and he never will be, but his fat little body toddling around the house brought back such wonderful memories. I loved my big boy, yes I did.
And he loved ME.