magic cats
When you're in the cat rescue business, sometimes magic happens. On his way back from Houston, Curio finds an abandoned kitten and brings him to me, I take him to Nancy, she finds him a perfect home... in Houston! Diana rescues a kitten, falls in love but finds him a home, then finds his brother in the pound and brings him home, where he's nursed his way into her heart (or her neck, whatever).
Monk was a magic cat. He was the only third-generation stripybutt, and son of the only female stripybutt in the Tigerclan. I caught his mama, Baby Tiger, when she was still nursing. I didn't know she had a litter, I was just trying to get everybody spayed. She fought her way out of a zipped softside carrier to get back to her kittens, and shortly thereafter, brought them to me.
Monk was the 16th cat of the Year of 16 Kittens, which was also the year I lost Gleep & Minerva. I was so out of my mind that I tried to find someone to foster Monk and his sister and find them homes. I always wanted a stripybutt of my own, but I already had an abundance of cats, I just couldn't take on another one, I was just exhausted... until that night when Monk marched over to Lucifer and Sparrow and the kittenpile, curled up in the middle of them, and looked directly at me as if to say, "Here I am and here I stay. I'm home now." And that was that.
I love all of my cats, but I had a special love for Monk. He was really an amazing cat -- he helped Lucifer keep Sparrow from following Sebastian's mental lead (neurosis runs in that family like whoa), and he became Sebastian's best friend. He was intelligent, reserved, wild, shy, and distressingly non-cuddly (but he would let me pick him up and give him a big squeeze). I guess I always thought that would change, but there was always a wild streak in him. When the lump appeared, I kept trying to figure out how to get him to Dr Cindy, but couldn't. I once chased him around my closed bedroom for over half an hour, throwing mattresses against the walls, giving him nowhere to hide, and I COULD. NOT. CATCH. THAT. CAT.
Monk was a magic cat. I think that's part of why I just cannot reconcile myself to his death. I just can't accept that the future I saw with him being the alpha, living a long happy life, isn't going to happen. I have to find a way to get past the grief. It's making me morbid, and too acutely aware of Booboo's age. I need to find a way to let go and accept that he's gone, so I can remember Monk's life, not his death, so I can remember him with a smile, instead of looking at Booboo through tears.
I loved him every day of his life since he was 6 weeks old. I was so lucky to have him in my life.
Monk was a magic cat. He was the only third-generation stripybutt, and son of the only female stripybutt in the Tigerclan. I caught his mama, Baby Tiger, when she was still nursing. I didn't know she had a litter, I was just trying to get everybody spayed. She fought her way out of a zipped softside carrier to get back to her kittens, and shortly thereafter, brought them to me.
Monk was the 16th cat of the Year of 16 Kittens, which was also the year I lost Gleep & Minerva. I was so out of my mind that I tried to find someone to foster Monk and his sister and find them homes. I always wanted a stripybutt of my own, but I already had an abundance of cats, I just couldn't take on another one, I was just exhausted... until that night when Monk marched over to Lucifer and Sparrow and the kittenpile, curled up in the middle of them, and looked directly at me as if to say, "Here I am and here I stay. I'm home now." And that was that.
I love all of my cats, but I had a special love for Monk. He was really an amazing cat -- he helped Lucifer keep Sparrow from following Sebastian's mental lead (neurosis runs in that family like whoa), and he became Sebastian's best friend. He was intelligent, reserved, wild, shy, and distressingly non-cuddly (but he would let me pick him up and give him a big squeeze). I guess I always thought that would change, but there was always a wild streak in him. When the lump appeared, I kept trying to figure out how to get him to Dr Cindy, but couldn't. I once chased him around my closed bedroom for over half an hour, throwing mattresses against the walls, giving him nowhere to hide, and I COULD. NOT. CATCH. THAT. CAT.
Monk was a magic cat. I think that's part of why I just cannot reconcile myself to his death. I just can't accept that the future I saw with him being the alpha, living a long happy life, isn't going to happen. I have to find a way to get past the grief. It's making me morbid, and too acutely aware of Booboo's age. I need to find a way to let go and accept that he's gone, so I can remember Monk's life, not his death, so I can remember him with a smile, instead of looking at Booboo through tears.
I loved him every day of his life since he was 6 weeks old. I was so lucky to have him in my life.