cats, OT to movie (was: disappointed)

[Catlady (Rita Prince Winston)]

--- In HPFGU-Movie at y..., Schlobin1 at a... wrote:

> thanks to everyone who is expressing sympathy for me about my 
> cat..it really  does make a difference. It's hard to keep talking
> to everyone about how  depressed you are about losing a cat, 
> because many people are not very  focused on animal bonding, and 
> think you're overreacting.....or maybe I just think that.....Diane,
> we had a Maine Coon, too, they are the sweetest things...I think 
> we will be getting a Maine Coon kitten..

I just got back last night from my holiday, and today I am trying to 
get caught up on my mlists (instead of being in chat) and Susan's 
sad news was the FIRST THING, I mean I almost replied before I
finished reading the archive! Anyone who thinks you're overreacting 
is an asshole. I still get tears in my eyes missing Nan, even tho' 
she died in 1998 and was almost 17, elderly. Five years old is young 
and strong, the 'prime' of (adult) life, you must have been shocked 
by sudden surprise as well as loss. 

A cat whom I firmly believe to have been a Maine Coon Cat came into 
my life when my landlady's friend lost her nursing (!) job in the 
1990-1 recession (the one that at the time was the deepest downtown 
in CA since the Great Depression and the first time CA resorted to 
'warrants' to pay state vendors since then, but now is considered not 
to have happened as people speak of an unbroken economic boom from 
1982 to end of 2000) and therefore had to move to a cheaper apartment 
that didn't allow cats and therefore needed a new home for her very 
beloved 'Sarah'. 

I could not bear to call a male cat Sarah so I changed it to 'Sasha'. 
Big strong furry cat, king of all he surveyed. He actually BELIEVED 
that he was boss over everyone EVEN HUMANS (all other cats in my life 
have only pretended to believe that, figuring they could get away 
with the pretense because they're so cute). For example, he liked to 
drink out of the faucet of the bathroom sink. One morning when I was 
brushing my teeth, he jumped up on the sink and PUSHED ME ASIDE to 
get at the faucet. I was so shocked that I put up no resistance, but I 
immediately moved back to my place, pushing him aside, and shouting: 
"Wait your turn! This is MY turn!"  

He liked to sit in the window, look out at the world, and sing. 
Loudly. He clearly thought that he had a beautiful singing voice 
and the neighbors were lucky to be privileged to hear him. He had 
the MOST HIDEOUS singing voice, similar to the cliched Siamese cat 
("raucous") but WORSE and MUCH LOUDER and all the human neighbors 
complained constantly. Nothing we tried was able to stop him. I admit 
it was kind of funny to listen to him tune up his voice before 
starting. He would start with a nice conversational Yow and then say 
it a few more times increasing the ugliness and then get loud.

He also made a particular point of jumping up on my desk, lying down 
on the middle of it (so far no problem) and DELIBERATELY stretching 
and spreading his legs to PUSH EVERYTHING OFF!!!

I thought he was probably 16 when he died, based on an estimate that 
he was 12 when we got him, based on a vet had said he was 'at least 
ten' when he walked into my landlady's friend's apartment two years 
before. Our vet, when we took him for the merciful needle, said he 
seemed to be older than 16, probably AT LEAST 18.