(no subject)
You were such a brat sometimes.
There were nights when I would be discussing something with Birgit in my room, and you couldn’t bear to be left out of the discussion so you would open my door. Of course, then you would realize that just maybe we would feed you - so you’d open it to go out again. Repeat this 8 times.
When I brought you home you were so scared of the speakers, and you kept your distance from the piano, but I like to think that it’s because your hearing was sensitive. You always meowed in the key I was playing. And if I had been gone for a while, and you heard the piano you always came in because you knew I was there.
It would have been impossible to keep you inside. You were MacCavity The Mystery Cat in your own right. First there were doors - sure you couldn’t open them at first, but you lay in wait and slinked out the door every time it opened. Windows? Glass might have been a problem for you, but screens were not. If they would not slide -- they would tear.
Once we found a different cat that came through one of your holes…
You would barely let us pick you up half of the time (unless you were me, and probably only because I’m persistent,) and yet… AND YET… you would hurry up to every person on the street with your tail straight up and turned slightly at the tip, to let them pet you once or twice before you rolled over and pounced away like the crazy charmer you were.
We don’t know how you died. I’d like to think it was something epic - like you were chasing raccoons to protect the neighbourhood (but meagre humans wouldn’t understand). Or you had to scale that roof you fell off of for some mission…
Either way, I’ll miss you. You had spunk.
There were nights when I would be discussing something with Birgit in my room, and you couldn’t bear to be left out of the discussion so you would open my door. Of course, then you would realize that just maybe we would feed you - so you’d open it to go out again. Repeat this 8 times.
When I brought you home you were so scared of the speakers, and you kept your distance from the piano, but I like to think that it’s because your hearing was sensitive. You always meowed in the key I was playing. And if I had been gone for a while, and you heard the piano you always came in because you knew I was there.
It would have been impossible to keep you inside. You were MacCavity The Mystery Cat in your own right. First there were doors - sure you couldn’t open them at first, but you lay in wait and slinked out the door every time it opened. Windows? Glass might have been a problem for you, but screens were not. If they would not slide -- they would tear.
Once we found a different cat that came through one of your holes…
You would barely let us pick you up half of the time (unless you were me, and probably only because I’m persistent,) and yet… AND YET… you would hurry up to every person on the street with your tail straight up and turned slightly at the tip, to let them pet you once or twice before you rolled over and pounced away like the crazy charmer you were.
We don’t know how you died. I’d like to think it was something epic - like you were chasing raccoons to protect the neighbourhood (but meagre humans wouldn’t understand). Or you had to scale that roof you fell off of for some mission…
Either way, I’ll miss you. You had spunk.