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This is a sad post so if you're already bummed or dealing with bad shit today, you might want to give it a miss.
I was set to get the next book instalment ready when my mother discovered that our cat Moo had been struck by a car and killed instantly outside our house last night. Needless to say, we are completely devastated. So I'm postponing the resumption of normal posting for another week; I'll post the instalment in the next few days when I get my shit together.
We found Moomy in the paper when he featured in a rehoming drive by our local SPCA shelter. He had spent his first year trapped in a dreadful cat hoarder's house and was full of anxieties and antisocial survival mechanisms when we took him home, passing two weeks on top of the fridge before he would come down and begin to trust us. But we all fell in love with each other and Moo proved to be a presence of epic proportions, both physically and emotionally. He was perhaps the most fruitily handsome and lavishly affectionate cat I have ever encountered, delighting in his felicitous existence, dampening us with dribble, coveting dog biscuits, warming our hearts with his unsophisticated smile, cruising our large garden, muddying the bathroom window, walking round and round the house at 2am shouting to come in, dispatching rats and mice and catching the fairies that lived in the long grass. He was The Lovely R's special boy, and his loss is very raw at the moment.
In honour of Moo's tremendous life we ask you to consider adopting a cat instead of purchasing a kitten if you are contemplating such a thing, and to please consider the speed at which you drive, if you do so.
Thank you for finding us, Moomis. We are forever grateful and miss you horribly.
XXX K, R and Felix.
I was set to get the next book instalment ready when my mother discovered that our cat Moo had been struck by a car and killed instantly outside our house last night. Needless to say, we are completely devastated. So I'm postponing the resumption of normal posting for another week; I'll post the instalment in the next few days when I get my shit together.
We found Moomy in the paper when he featured in a rehoming drive by our local SPCA shelter. He had spent his first year trapped in a dreadful cat hoarder's house and was full of anxieties and antisocial survival mechanisms when we took him home, passing two weeks on top of the fridge before he would come down and begin to trust us. But we all fell in love with each other and Moo proved to be a presence of epic proportions, both physically and emotionally. He was perhaps the most fruitily handsome and lavishly affectionate cat I have ever encountered, delighting in his felicitous existence, dampening us with dribble, coveting dog biscuits, warming our hearts with his unsophisticated smile, cruising our large garden, muddying the bathroom window, walking round and round the house at 2am shouting to come in, dispatching rats and mice and catching the fairies that lived in the long grass. He was The Lovely R's special boy, and his loss is very raw at the moment.
In honour of Moo's tremendous life we ask you to consider adopting a cat instead of purchasing a kitten if you are contemplating such a thing, and to please consider the speed at which you drive, if you do so.
Thank you for finding us, Moomis. We are forever grateful and miss you horribly.
XXX K, R and Felix.
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The Great Cat Moo
is wild today,
rushing, airily,
through the laundry
toward freedom
and away
from the imposition
of catmeat,
supplied.
Enjoyed, yes,
but hardly required
by such a
perfect
feline
mechanism.
is wild today,
rushing, airily,
through the laundry
toward freedom
and away
from the imposition
of catmeat,
supplied.
Enjoyed, yes,
but hardly required
by such a
perfect
feline
mechanism.
In surmounting the helpless plum tree
the aviary birds are
taken
in his mind,
bitten quite in half,
the stupid creatures.
Did they not know?
It matters not.
The morning itself
was fair warning.
We are all of us predated.
the aviary birds are
taken
in his mind,
bitten quite in half,
the stupid creatures.
Did they not know?
It matters not.
The morning itself
was fair warning.
We are all of us predated.
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