Goodbye Morphmorphmorph
Jul. 17th, 2009 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moominmuppetMorph always responded best to a singsong sort of "mwooorphmwooooooorphmwooooorph" call. I'm sad I'll never have a reason to use it again. And I can't believe I didn't mention about him being the boobcat, too. He loved nothing better than to curl up on someone, happypaw their boobs, and suckle on the fabric in their armpit. It was goofy, and left little drool spots, but it was also ridiculously cute, and obviously made him insanely happy. He'd also sometimes develop drool bubbles when he slept. His "chill spot" was the top of his head. He loved having his belly petted, but you had to do it just right in order not to tickle him. If you accidentally tickled him, he'd be all wound up until you engaged the chill spot again. He'd stand on the ottoman and bat at Jax's face, which Jax found fascinating and funny, and would keep approaching with a big doofusy "hey, do it again, do it again" attitude. He'd also go for Jax's tail, sometimes. And he's the only of my cats who's ever chased his own tail. It was hysterical. He loved cheese above all else, and was ridiculously pushy and undeterable in his attempts to beg or steal it. Until he lost weight in old age, he had the most wonderful soft, fat belly. His belly fur was white, and very thin, so his belly was this floppy pink pillow. We'd play the 'got your belly' game, which always bemused him.
The first summer I had him, when we were deciding on a name, we almost went with "Yahweh", for his penchant for unpredictable violence. He'd roll on his back, all "pet me, pet me", and be all happy about that until all of a sudden he'd go "*rwaaar* I attack your arm", and suspend himself upside down by claws and teeth. I was scratches from hand to shoulder that summer, until we learned how not to accidentally tickle his belly. I had him that summer with Landa and Tawnya and Ronda, and then he lived with my parents until I graduated nine months later. He moved in with me to my first real apartment of my own (Mushroom joined us within a year). Driving him back up from Alabama in the Suburban, with no a/c, I ended up stopping to pick up a bag of ice, put a towel over it in the front passenger footwell, and set him there to get him through the heat and stress. Poor panting boy. He'd been with me ever since, through Gambier, Mt Vernon, Lakewood, and here. He was dumb and clumsy and goofy and loving in the most endearing possible ways.
The two women from the vet clinic came by about 1:45 today. Everyone else, especially Mark, had gotten their goodbye time, and I'd spent the last half hour with him in bathroom (he'd taken to lying in the bathtub for comfort and coolness), petting him. We took him out on the back porch, let him wander for a minute more out in the sun (flea-allergic indoor cat, so this was one of the last things he was capable of enjoying), I held him for a few minutes, and then we did the injection. We let the dogs sniff him, as well as Mushroom, then we wrapped his body, and took it to Gateway for cremation.
I've done my crying, I think, and bec76 and grf took really good care of me. I've had a nap, and although I'm still feeling sad and quiet, I'm doing ok.
The first summer I had him, when we were deciding on a name, we almost went with "Yahweh", for his penchant for unpredictable violence. He'd roll on his back, all "pet me, pet me", and be all happy about that until all of a sudden he'd go "*rwaaar* I attack your arm", and suspend himself upside down by claws and teeth. I was scratches from hand to shoulder that summer, until we learned how not to accidentally tickle his belly. I had him that summer with Landa and Tawnya and Ronda, and then he lived with my parents until I graduated nine months later. He moved in with me to my first real apartment of my own (Mushroom joined us within a year). Driving him back up from Alabama in the Suburban, with no a/c, I ended up stopping to pick up a bag of ice, put a towel over it in the front passenger footwell, and set him there to get him through the heat and stress. Poor panting boy. He'd been with me ever since, through Gambier, Mt Vernon, Lakewood, and here. He was dumb and clumsy and goofy and loving in the most endearing possible ways.
The two women from the vet clinic came by about 1:45 today. Everyone else, especially Mark, had gotten their goodbye time, and I'd spent the last half hour with him in bathroom (he'd taken to lying in the bathtub for comfort and coolness), petting him. We took him out on the back porch, let him wander for a minute more out in the sun (flea-allergic indoor cat, so this was one of the last things he was capable of enjoying), I held him for a few minutes, and then we did the injection. We let the dogs sniff him, as well as Mushroom, then we wrapped his body, and took it to Gateway for cremation.
I've done my crying, I think, and bec76 and grf took really good care of me. I've had a nap, and although I'm still feeling sad and quiet, I'm doing ok.
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Re: Caleb's father
Date: 2009-07-18 04:25 am (UTC)