I have to begin my gratitude post with some sad news – but it relates directly to the rest of the post. This is Erie. We lost her on September 29. She was eighteen and a half. She’d lived with us for exactly 18 years. We’d adopted her in September 18 years ago, when she was five months old.
Losing my elderly girl made me grateful for the rest of our silly, adorable feline family. That’s one thing, I know. But there are three of them. So I contend it totally counts. Besides. There are only so many photos I can reasonably expect you to look at. There’s nothing quite like losing someone you love to make you realize how lucky you are to have had that love. So I’m taking a moment to appreciate my felines.
Meet our only boy, Autolycus (Uh tall uh kus):
He is a complete nut job. He thinks my husband walks on water (this is not related to the cat being a nut job, I swear). Autolycus is one of those cats who lives for trouble. The more I tell him not to do something, the more invested he is in doing it. He’s a combination teddy bear and alarm clock. When I go to bed, he snuggles down next to my face to purr me to sleep. But sleeping past 6am? Forget it. He’s up dancing on my pillow, pulling my hair, and touching my face with his cold, wet nose. This is a boy who doesn’t want his breakfast to be late.
This is Cuillean. (Qui-lay-un) She’s a little shy, not that you’d know it from this picture. I said shy, not modest. She’s my lap fungus. When I sit down to work, Cuillean is on my lap. She has a lovely, gentle purr and a sweet set of chirps and trills. She doesn’t actually meow. Unless you try to put her in a carrier to go to the vet. Then she wails this heart-wrenching WOOOOE! WOE! I’m kind of surprised the ASPCA hasn’t paid me a visit.
When our alarm goes off in the morning, she comes in for morning pets. This involves coming into the master cabin, getting between me and my husband and having both of us pet her. Eventually, she flops down on her side and kneads my husband’s armpit. This is sweet until her claws get past a certain length. And then, love hurts.
Finally, Hatshepsut. I pronounce her name for you in the video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBhIGCP5iCs if you watched the video, then yes. She’s always that intent. She has a HUGE purr. Little cat, great big purr. She wields it as a weapon. Many an attempt to listen to her heart or lungs has been thwarted by that purr. She loves to have me hold her. Or pull her toys. I cannot make a bed without Hatshepsut help. It’s against the union rules. All beds being made must be inspected for bed mice (my fingers, under the covers). The disturbing bit is that she purrs like a freight train while rabbit kicking the crap out of my hand…
I am eternally grateful for the love and fun and laughter my four footed family members bring. They’re always focused on right now. They’re an excellent reminder to take joy everywhere I can.