Four years - the dog's still here

Four years. This dog has been here for four years now. Apparently, he thinks he's staying, and is making himself comfortable - in my bed.


So, now my pillow smells like dog.
Great.

Rest in Peace, Mufasa

We buried our cat today.

Sixteen years ago, Ellen and I went off to pick out a cat. When we got ready to leave, Ellen had chosen a little yellow furball who we ultimately named Mufasa.  I was drawn to a black and white kitten we ultimately named Neelix.  So, instead of the one cat we had intended, we ended up coming home with two (and dodging the landlord for a couple of years).

Mufasa was always the eager, spry, underfoot cat. On the way home with us that day, he kept peeking his head out of the cardboard box, as if he were eager to jump into this new adventure. The first couple of nights we tried to keep these energetic ones in the kitchen, so that we could get some sleep without them crawling all over us. We didn't have a door in the kitchen, so we propped up a card table to block the opening, and figured we were good to go. Not long after settling into bed, Mufasa came bounding up the stairs and onto our heads.  Seems he had figured out that he could jump to the chair, to the table, and then launch himself over the propped up card table into the living room.

That kind of set the tone there. I don't know how many times I stepped on his tail, or clonked him in the head with the cabinet door because he was trying to insinuate himself in whatever I was doing. Especially if there were food involved (or might be food involved).

Last week, we returned from Thanksgiving at Ellen's folks' house, and Mufasa was listing along on one side, acting very groggy, and dragging himself from place to place. We figured something was up, but it was confirmed when he only ate just a little bit (and the next day when he wouldn't eat at all).  Ellen took him to the vet on Tuesday morning, and asked them to check him out. (He'd had some pretty weird health-related things before.)  The vet called to let us know that Mufasa was suffering from kidney failure, and that the best they could do would be to try intravenous fluids for a few days to see if he responded.  If he did, he could come home and we would be on a maintenance program to keep him comfortable.

After talking it over, we decided that the best thing to do would be to let him go.

We buried him in the backyard today, with many tears.

Sixteen years - a good life - a good cat.



As of this writing, my "About Me" block on this blog says "4 kids, 3 cats, 2 adults, 1 family (and a dog)". Please excuse me if I don't update it for a while.