Category: Warm Beasties


The oldest cat in my Parents house is, or rather was, Pudge. He was there long before I was adopted into their family and he is the type of cat to touch the hearts of everyone who met him. He was loving in nature, at times needy, but always an earthbound angel.

He would crawl into whatever lap was available during family time and make himself comfortable. He felt like dead weight most of the time, and there were occasions we had to check his breathing because he slept so soundly, so comfortably in the safety of his Kingdom. We may have been the lead mammals in the house, but he was King. We were his subjects, us humans and the other cats.

He was the best snuggler, wanted or not. He knew how to make you smile, his long gray multicolored hair shimmering, because even when he was dirty, he still looked beautiful. He was truly the most amazing cat. And like all cats, he proved to me that every living creature has a different personality. But sadly, all good things must come and go.

I live very far away from my family up in Spokane and away from the kitties, so I was dismayed when The Odd Little Brother posted on facebook that Had been missing since Thursday. Last Thursday. I hoped against hope that may he was just stuck in a garage nearby. But in true cat fashion, it’s believed that he went off to pass from this life. He said his goodbye and loved on the Little One, and then left. I wasn’t there to say my goodbyes, but I’m sure he knew I loved him. That’s what I tell myself.

With hopes, he has gone to heaven and is nestled on Our ever loving father’s lap, snoozing contentedly.  Because Heaven is the only place a cat such as Pudge could have gone.



When i was about 16, my foster sisters cat, Bandito(the cat i gave her, btw), gave birth to about 5 kittens. They were adorable. However, 4 of the kittens came out attached to each by the umbilical cord. That caused concern from my parents especially. The only kitten luckily enough to escape Bandito’s unintentional death trap(which i am convinced that she really enjoyed the death trap, as she was a terrible mother), was Norbert, who would later become my kitten after much pleading and begging.

Norbert is a bizarre cat to say the least; he constantly stalks me, even though i have moved out of my parents house and he stays there as an indoor cat, whenever i go over there. And he stares. He has intelligent eyes, although he himself is very unintelligent. Talking to him would be almost plausible if it weren’t for the fact that my parents already think I’m nuts. Still, there is something about Norbert that makes me wonder if he can actually understand me. Or maybe he is just obsessed with me. I call it an obsession solely based on the fact that when he first realized that i was his mistress, he followed me around constantly and from then on would stalk me into the bathroom, sitting outside the shower, waiting for me to emerge from the evil water.(He never moved from his spot by the sink of course, the shower was evil, but neither would he leave the bathroom). Then he would proceed to rub up against my wet legs, leaving what looked like a little forest on freshly shaved legs. With a shake of my hair, he would run back to the sink to avoid the water droplets now bombarding him, looking very hurt, after all, he was just telling me he loved me. But i suppose he could have just continued stealing my hair scrunchies.

Oh yes, hair scrunchies. He loved them! Especially mine. After a day of working i would come home, say hello to the parents and walk into my room, Norbert on my heels. Unaware that he was behind me, i would remove my scrunchy and set it on my desk and turn to the closet for a less food-smelly outfit, only to turn back around and discover that Norbert had my scrunchy in his mouth. Well there was no use trying to get it back until he dropped it, which he did sometimes, mainly i think to fool me into thinking he had forgotten it.  Assured that he would not bother the poor scrunchy again, i would open the door to let him out. In sleek cat form, he would snatch the scrunchy up and run as fast as he could for the exit. On the one occasion i decided to chase him, he had my favorite scrunchy secured in his jaws, he ran down the stairs into the basement and made a right turn into the laundry room. I stop and watched in amazement as he jump on top of the washer and into a little hole in the ceiling, where i am very sure that the rest of my scrunchies forfeited their lives to him. To this day, if he gets a chance to steal a scrunchy, he takes it. And the others still lay very dead in the ceiling. Of course he is no longer allowed downstairs, due to his misbehavior in my parents bedroom. Alas, the lament of the scrunchies is long over and i wonder if he even remembers whether or not they are there, waiting for the scrunchy King’s return with another victim.

Yes, Norbert the Scrunchy King is by far my favorite cat in that house. But he is only one of seven in a house where my mom is a sucker for living creatures, whether they are kids or dogs or cats. Who knows, he may even be in a house of 8 by the end of the week.