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Jan. 6th, 2010 04:49 pmMy little black boy, Shilla, died overnight.
He liked to hide in plain sight by laying on anything dark colored - not a challenge when Mom prefers black clothes.
He would sit in my lap and look soulfully into my eyes, willing me to give him pettin's. Or he would threaten to bite my hand until I called him on it.
He would freak out if I sneezed, especially if he was in my lap. We got into the habit of saying "Sorry Shilla" when we sneezed, even if he wasn't in the room.
When Bob cut up Bucherole cheese, he would beg for it. He never really realized that other people foods might be edible, but something in the smell drove him nuts.
He had a bad knee (I always said it was an old football injury) and a tender tummy. But that never stopped him from playing.
He liked playing with the evil bright red bug, and with the catnip bubbles. I swear he and Moody invented kitty soccer.
He didn't like Mom picking him up - sort of like the teen boy who doesn't want Mom to hug him in front of his friends. "Mom, you're embarassing me!"
He could get into some of the most doofus sitting positions I've ever see a cat get into.
He and his littermate Moody were born on the anniversary of the marriage I was ending in 1999. They have always been the biggest symbol of the new life I made for myself after that.
I'll miss my baby boy.
He liked to hide in plain sight by laying on anything dark colored - not a challenge when Mom prefers black clothes.
He would sit in my lap and look soulfully into my eyes, willing me to give him pettin's. Or he would threaten to bite my hand until I called him on it.
He would freak out if I sneezed, especially if he was in my lap. We got into the habit of saying "Sorry Shilla" when we sneezed, even if he wasn't in the room.
When Bob cut up Bucherole cheese, he would beg for it. He never really realized that other people foods might be edible, but something in the smell drove him nuts.
He had a bad knee (I always said it was an old football injury) and a tender tummy. But that never stopped him from playing.
He liked playing with the evil bright red bug, and with the catnip bubbles. I swear he and Moody invented kitty soccer.
He didn't like Mom picking him up - sort of like the teen boy who doesn't want Mom to hug him in front of his friends. "Mom, you're embarassing me!"
He could get into some of the most doofus sitting positions I've ever see a cat get into.
He and his littermate Moody were born on the anniversary of the marriage I was ending in 1999. They have always been the biggest symbol of the new life I made for myself after that.
I'll miss my baby boy.
