Monthly Archives: October 2009

What horns?

Happy Halloween, everyone!


Ratschlag, (or die Katze ist tot.)

Time passes, and things get a bit easier. And you never know when something will seem funny.

As an exercise in German class today, my partner and I were presented with a scenario to which we had to offer advice. Our scenario was: Ich habe die Katze von meiner Freundin überfahren. Was soll ich machen? (I’ve run over my friends cat. What should I do?)

Appropriate response: Die Katze ist tot! Es tut mir Leid! Sie koennen eine nueu Katze kaufen, und Sie sollen die Katze begraben. (The cat is dead! I’m sorry! You could buy a new cat, and you should lay the cat to rest.)

Simple enough, right?

We finished it early and came up with more advice, which was the onset of a fit of giggles. Our added, yet somewhat inappropriate responses (mostly due to lack of time to translate): Build a bridge and get over it, offer up your cat as a sacrifice for your friend and his car… you know, like one- to- one, and find a Chinese restaurant.

The professor illustrated “begraben” on the board for those who didn’t know its meaning, drawing a grassy ground and a cross shaped headstone, and then mimicked a bugle playing taps.

I probably shouldn’t have laughed; I miss my lost ones terribly.

Laughter is a good thing.


You’ve been gone for a week and I miss you terribly. I wish you would show up at the deck door, meowing like crazy and climbing the screen to get attention. I know that with each day that passes my chances of seeing you again lessen, but I haven’t given up yet.

Over and over I see the last moments I’d seen you replay in my head. You were at the patio door, waiting for Maya. She came out the door and the two of you went to watch and chase the birds in the yard. I never thought it would be the last time I saw you; I wish I would have watched a moment longer.

I remember the summer evenings on the deck, me reading and you playing with my sandals. You jumped up onto the chair I was using as an ottoman and started playing with my feet. You became so brave over this summer. I’ll always remember playing with you through the screen door, and how you’d catch my hand and nibble on my fingertip. I was never allowed to pet you, though. That was your way.

I can picture you sleeping in the rain shelter with Maya. You and Maya on the deck, in the sun, waiting for Joe Grey to come by, then off you went with him. You and Joe Grey spent a lot of time together; he never pushed you around like your brothers/sisters/colony cats did. (You brought around Tomcat, too. You and the boys, Katie…)

You’ve brought a lot of joy into my life, pretty girl. I’ll always miss you, and I’ll always look forward to seeing you again. Love you, Katiecat.


I’ve been thinking about Wootie, and ex-foster cat of mine A LOT in the past few days. This evening I received some sad news: Wootie had lost his battle with liver disease and died early Sunday morning.

I have never been scared of a cat. Freaked out by eyes that looked non-existent in the night’s darkness on a cat I’d never seen before (Joe Grey), sure. But never.. scared. The first night Wootie stayed with me I was home alone, sitting with him in one of my bathrooms. (Bathrooms are great for recovering URI cats – steam from the shower relieves congestion.) He climbed onto my shoulder the best he could, since he was 20 pounds of cat, and started purring. This purr mixed with his breathing would sort-of change pitch and frequency, as if words were trying to be formed. After a few strange noises outside and a cat staring into my eyes as if to bore a hole, I though for sure the devil himself was going to start speaking to me through Wootie. Of course, nothing happened and I grew to adore that purr, but those first few hours were questionable.

Wootie shared an all-too-brief time with wonderful cat parents who loved him, gave him the wonderful home he deserved, and were there with him during his final days.

Rest in peace, WootMan. You may have only stayed in my home for a few weeks, but you’ll live on in my heart forever. I’ll never forget that purr of yours, and how we sat together and listened to Rhythm: Sweet and Hot on Saturday nights. I’m so glad you got to know love, and had a bed of your very own. You were a good cat.

Goodbye, Wootie.


This morning:

Alarm clock: *click* … on NPR, national public radio”…
Me: *smacks snooze button*

… ten minutes later…

Alarm clock: *click* … way west inbound backed past the 79 interchange. Penn Avenue is closed between Homewood and icantremembertheotherroad due to an accident involving an SUV and a garbage truck…
Me: *awake* Huh? Whoa… maybe it’s the pumpkin thieves.