I just found out that the cat I owned when I lived in Minneapolis had to be put down about a year ago. I've been terrible about keeping in touch with the lovely former roommate who thought she was keeping him for a few weeks after I moved to New York City and, due to twists of housing fate, ended up keeping him for the rest of his life (thanks Marnie!). He apparently succumbed one of those we-could-operate-for-$3000-and-a-low-chance-of-survival-anyway kind of tumors.
I'm really rather impressed that he lasted as long as he did, since he always had what appeared to be a combination of bulimia and black lung. Have you ever owned a pet with what sounds like a serious smoker's cough? It's odd, very odd. Visitors would often hear him hacking and give me hesitant, questioning look before gently suggesting that my cat might be in the throes of death. To which I always replied "no, he just does that."
It was even better when they encountered him sleeping in his favorite position - on his back with all four legs sticking straight up into the air. Nope, he wasn't dead then either. He just did that.
I've wondered, and others have asked, what had happened to him since I moved away, so it's good to finally know. Hopefully he's gone to a better place where he can drink out of the toilet, roll around in wet bathtubs, and lay on people's faces in the middle of the night to his big heart's content.
R.I.P, Cat.
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Why don't we ever get to know the names of your pets? (Unfair question, since I already know their names, but I ask on behalf of the public at large.)
Well, as far as I was ever concerned, "Cat" was his real name. So in this case your criticism is invalid. Thank you.
And what about THE DOG?
His name was Cinder! Or as I liked to affectionally call him, Cinderblock. He only became "Cat" after I moved away. I'm sorry to hear that he passed away. He was a good kitty.
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