Philosophical Nonsense

It has been a year since Fagan passed away.  I still miss him (hell, I broke down in tears talking with my mom about it today), but the pain has receded somewhat...I can talk about him -- most of the time -- without crying. 

Fagan came into our lives memorably...Boe and I were newlyweds in March of 2001.  We already had 2 cats in our apartment -- Frank was four? and Odin was still a kitten of about 6 months or so.  I was working at the plasma center as a phlebotomist, and often worked until 8 at night or so.  At 8 in the evening in March in Indiana, It. Is. Dark.  I pulled into the apartment complex parking lot in my giant 1987 hoopty station wagon, parked it, and walked up the front steps to the building...

Where a  black and white tuxedo cat sat on the top step.  Since I don't think it's weird at all to have conversations with cats, I asked him, "Hey buddy, who do you belong to?  Where do you live?"  The unnamed cat looked up and me, meowed, and trotted to the side of the biuilding, where he sat down, looked at me, and meowed again.  Well, I'm not ENTIRELY stupid, I can understand that much Cat Speak.  So I followed him.  He mosied his way to the back of the building, where the private patios were.  He walked straight up to my back door, sat down, and murrrrrred at me.  I tried to explain to him that we already had 1 cat over the apartment limit, that I couldn't take him in, and that I was sorry that I couldn't bring him in with me. He just sat there expectantly.  I went into the apartment, explained the situation to Boe, who reminded me we already had one contraband cat, we couldn't have another.  So I put some food and water outside for the patiently waiting tuxedo cat, and made plans to take him to the local cat rescue as soon as I had a day off of work.

The next night, the same thing happened...the tuxedo cat met me on the front stoop, followed me around to my patio, where I fed and watered him.  Then the cat would sit patiently at my back door until I went to bed. 

The night after that, it stormed.  Sleet, freezing rain, 40 mile per hour winds, the works.  Boe watched me set up a plastic crate with a flap to keep the rain out, towels as padding, and yet more food and water, carefully placed to avoid as much rain as possible.  Boe then sighed, opened the door, and let the cat in.  All Boe said to me was "Well, we'll just have to get a new place and get him neutered."  The cat just waltzed in as if he had planned this outcome the entire time...which he did, no doubt!

We had just over nine good years with him.  He was incredibly sweet.  Boe always called him Fagan, but after  a while I had given him quite a few nicknames:  Fatfat, Buttbutt, Mr. Butt, Chubby Boy, Little Dude, Mr. Pink Nose, Mr. Man.

Fagan was amazing, and we were blessed to have him in our lives.

I have been busy. Crazy busy. A lot of the busy comes from transferring schools and work, the other comes from, well, this:



Meet Princess -- she's about 6 weeks old, and was found nearly dead on the side of a highway by some Good Samaritans 2 weeks ago.  She was skeletal and covered in fleas when they picked her up.  They got rid of the fleas and fostered her, but the female Good Samaritan developed pretty severe allergies to her and so they  found her a home with us.  She is SO TINY, omg.  Bear in mind, I haven't worked with a kitten this young since Odin came into our lives, so close to 10 years.  Odin is now about 15 pounds and Frank is close to 20 pounds, so it's quite surprising how small Princess is in comparison.  She is already very much Boe's cat -- she follows him from room to room, sleeps in his armpit (often moving to his pillow next to his face in the middle of the night), and generally wants to spend her time hanging around him.  It's awesome -- I had hoped for this since Fagan was a daddy's boy and Boe lost his special buddy when Fagan passed away.  She is going to have amber eyes when they finish changing colors, and she is mostly white with tabby splotches and tail.  Princess is also living up to her name -- she is tiny but fierce!  She hisses and growls at the boys when they come a bit too close, but that distance is shrinking day by day.  She gets along well with Maggie, as her foster family has 4 dogs.  Last night, Princess discovered Maggie's tail makes an *excellent* play toy, and Maggie has shown no aggression, simply playfulness.  Princess eats like a preteen boy (put her bowl down in front of her, wait 30 seconds, then fill it up again), but she's growing ridiculously quickly and putting weight on nicely.  It's funny to watch her tummy expand as she snarfs down her crunchies and her wet food...afterwards, she usually gives a large burp and waddles off to the litter box.  Here, have another picture:


Yes, the scale is accurate:  Princess is the size of one of Boe's hands. 

I've been seeing (a fat, healthy) Fagan out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the toilet lid when I turn the bathroom sink faucet on (he and I had a routine when I was in the bathroom -- I'd turn on the water in the sink, and he'd let me bathe in peace). And this morning, I dreamt of Fagan mrrrrowing at us to fix his breakfast. He always waited until the alarm first went off to remind his humans that, yes, he was hungry and we were the ones who could open the cans so would one of us kindly GET UP AND FEED HIM ALREADY!?

I hope that he sticks around for a while, I find him quite comforting. I don't even mind being woken up early.

It's also becoming easier to think, so that's good.

You all know that I have 3 cats, right? Our youngest boy, Fagan, is dying. The vet says he's not in pain, so for the past few days we've just been loving on him as much as possible. I think we're at the end, though...Fagan quit eating or drinking 2 days ago. He has been a wonderful boy to have with us, and I have been blessed that he chose us to live with. I can't go on for too much longer without crying, so that's it for now.

I was painting away and...Fagan is on top of the highest cabinets. I believe this means my fuzzy Lords and Masters(tm) approve.

Hrmph.

And in other news, I am going to Hancock's today. Because I can.

Edited: well, Hancock's is not in the cards. My cough decided to become productive and I am off to urgent care to stave off incipient bronchitis. Woo.

Also, my linen from fabrics-store.com came in.