Mickey and Whiskers

I want to thank all the wonderful people Mickey and I have met so far at Catster. It's awesome that so many of you think she's a cutie as much as I do!

I wish that I had found this site earlier, so I could have a diary dedicated to Mickey while she was still living here with me. But her life here was so special, that I could still have a diary filled with stories and experiences I had with her. And she is still always with me.

Today I thought I would share a story about how Mickey made sure that my first hamster, Whiskers, and I were together when Whiskers went to Rainbow Bridge.

Back then, I was involved in a convention business, so I was able to be home a lot with Mickey, but I had to travel two or three weekends a month. Mickey's Gamma used to come over to take care of her and my hammie, Whiskers. Whiskers lived in a ten gallon aquarium (more like a palace because I always spoil my furbabies :) ) in an upstairs bedroom. Mickey knew him. He used to roll around inside his plastic exercise ball and chase her around the room, but she put up with him because she knew how much I loved him.

Anyway, one night, I was in Virginia Beach, about four hours from where I used to live. We were set up at a disastrous convention, and we did something that we'd never done before. We packed up all the displays after the first day. We came back to the hotel to an emotional message from my mother. She had come for a second visit that Saturday to check on Mickey. She figured that she's already checked on Whiskers once, so he was probably fine.

But Miss Mickey wouldn't let her leave. She knew that he was upstairs in distress. She meowed and meowed and kept trying to lead her Gamma up to him. When my mother understood what Mickey was doing, she found Whiskers circling and circling around his home. He couldn't control himself. My mother tried calling the hotel number I'd left, but when she didn't get an answer, she took him to the emergency vet.

I got the voice message and immediately said that we had to go. We checked out of the hotel and hurried home to Whiskers. I was pretty hysterical. I called every twenty minutes or so on a cell phone trying to reach my mother. Finally I got her, and she told me that Whiskers had a stroke. The vet didn't have much to do for him, but he gave him a prednisone shot to try to reduce the swelling in his brain.

My little boy was still circling around his house when I got back. When I took him out and cradled him, he would calm for a few breaths while he was against my heart, but then the neurological problems started up again.

Hamsters just don't live long enough. Whiskers was my baby boy (still is) but that was his last night here. I only had him here for a year and seven months. I slept on a futon mattress on the floor with his aquarium right next to me. The sound of shuffling wood shavings was relentless, but we were both exhausted so I managed to get some sleep. I woke up during the night a couple of times to comfort him, but right after 6 a.m., I opened my eyes to find him curled up against the glass as close as he could have been to me. His little heart just couldn't take all of that rushing around.

If it wasn't for Mickey, my mother would have never known anything was wrong until the next day, when Whiskers would have probably been gone. Mickey made sure that Mr. Whiskers got care, and she made sure that I was able to get home to be with him at the end of his life here. She didn't think about the little pest in the purple plastic ball who crashed into her all the time. She thought about how much Mommy loved that little guy, and how much he needed help.

Mickey is a special girl that way. She's still with Mr. Whiskers. Not only do they live together at Rainbow Bridge waiting for me, but I have the ashes of Whiskers, my second hamster Matty, and Mickey in a little pink urn. (I wish I knew how to draw a heart on here, because that's what I want to put at the end of all of her entries).

How Mickey Shows Love

Someone had an excellent thread on the Pet Loss forums, and I wanted to copy my reply here in my diary because it's made me all Mickey-warm-and-furry. :)


"How do your babies show you their love?"

These days, she comes with her beautiful spirit around me, so I feel a sweet closeness that she is still with me. When she was still here in body, she stuck to me wherever I went. If I sat on the family room sofa, so did she. If I was reading in bed, I'd have to contort myself to make room for her. If I went to the bathroom, she'd sometimes follow me down the hall and then back again.

When I lived in a different place, I used to sleep on two futon mattresses stacked on the floor. Mickey had a nightly ritual of curling at the foot of my bed until I fell asleep, and then doing her little kitty patrol through the house to make sure all was safe before returning to sleep in a nested blanket on the floor of my closet (which I always left open for her).

In the last four months of her life, she couldn't even tolerate sleeping alone in the family room. She'd come and meow and meow until I came out to sleep on the couch with her. She had a special seat next to it, and she wouldn't sleep on it in the bedroom. It had to be just us.

She also used to greet me at the door whenever I returned. My husband and I laugh because usually I get home first, but one day he did. She came to the door meowing, and then when he came in alone, she looked up at him, stopped meowing, as if to say, "you're not Mommy!" That was one of the things that made me cry the hardest after she went to the Bridge. Not hearing the meowing as I put the key in the lock. I still greet her, since I know she's with me in spirit form. Then on the third day, as the tears started welling again, I heard a quiet little Mickey meow, and I didn't cry coming home anymore because I knew she still came to the door.



"How do they express themselves to you?"

Lots of meowing. She and I always understood each other. She, like all cats, has that delicate language of trilling, meowing, screeching, etc. and I speak very fluent Mickey.

Also through touch. I always knew that Mickey loved me when she refused to sit next to me without some part of her touching me.

She always liked when I meditated or did yoga. She'd be a little purr monster hugged up against me, so I learned how to form my postures around her. Wow, that was an amazing bond, in the spiritual state with the purring little tabby cat. It was like a cocoon. I can still have that now, and it's a big source of comfort.




"Do you think that they know when you are upset and how do they show that? "

Absolutely. If I cried, she came out of nowhere to sit next me and purr. She knew that her purring balanced my soul again, and she knew that she was an excellent little fixer of troubles. If she thought that her daddy (my husband) made me cry, he'd get a grand 'ol scowling-at from Miss Mickey until all was right in the room again.




"How do they try to comfort you?"

Purring, touching, being with me, and if all else failed, pulling out the heavy artillery of rolling over and showing her raggedy little tummy for smooches!

Kitty immigration

Miss Mickey and I weren't always in Canada. We started out living in Northern Virginia, until we met her new daddy/my husband unexpectedly on a hockey message board. Neither of us joined the forum looking for love, but we found it! The only thing was, he was in Calgary, Alberta, Canada and I was in the Washington D.C. area.

When it came time to talk about who would move, we never really looked into U.S. immigration, because I had already fallen in love with Calgary (and Chris, of course). :)

I had a telephone book sized application ahead of me for my own immigration once we were married, but Mickey had her own set of rules. Canada does not quarantine cats from the U.S. but you do need a current rabies vaccination as well as a health statement from a veterinarian clearing the cat for travel (must have been signed within the past seven days). Being the cat mommy that I am, I had these things as well as her complete medical chart. The health documents are also required by the airline.

On moving day, I carried more of Mickey's gear than my own! We had a 13 hour travel day ahead of us, flying from Dulles International Airport to Seattle/Tacoma, then a four hour layover before flying to Calgary and facing immigration. I had reserved an in-cabin space for Mickey, of course, so she had her nice new Sherpa carrier, a toy inside of that, some food and a water bowl for the layover, plastic bags in case of any yucky accidents that might need to be isolated fast, a harness and leash, a travel litterbox, tissues, and some tranquilizers in case she needed them in flight (she didn't). We had quite the production going through security getting her out of her Sherpa, all the stuff (and us) scanned since I was also bringing up my laptop computer, then getting everything back again.

On the flight, she was such a good girl. I'd been playfully chanting the subliminal message, "You will not poop on the airplane," for a couple of months ahead of the trip, and she didn't have a problem with that. She meowed during take-off and landing, but the plane was louder than she was. Since her carrier was under the seat in front of me at those times, no one could hear her except me since I was being hyper-sensitive about it. It turned out that I was in an aisle seat and a businessman was in the window one. He didn't mind if I put her carrier on the center seat next to me. Of course, you can't take a pet out of the carrier, but I lifted the arm up between us, and she was content to sit on the netted side of the carrier right up against my leg.

It wasn't until I had to make a quick tinkle run that anyone knew there was a cat on board. I waited until I could go straight into the lavatory, and was gone only about 90 seconds, but she was meowing when I got back. She quieted again as soon as I sat down. I apologized to the people right around us, and they all said that they didn't even know there was a cat until then. She continued to be a good girl until we landed, once again having her meowing drowned out by the aircraft.

During her layover, I had already scoped out an isolated restroom on a previous trip where I could put her on her happy face leash and offer her some litterbox time. She didn't want that, nor any food or water. I let her stretch her legs in a seated area on the far side of the airport, but then a couple of flights landed there, and people kept coming over to fuss over Mickey (I know I would have!). She got anxious about all the attention, so we found the perfect compromise for her. I sat in a black chair with her next to me, with the top of her Sherpa opened and her on her leash with the end wrapped around my wrist. This way she had more air, but no one could really see her...well, except for the lady at the snack shop, who saw the carrier and wanted to meet Mickey. She squealed at how cute she was. :)

At immigration, I had to go through the process of applying for my temporary resident visa, and explaining that yes, I was going to marry a Canadian in five months, and that I would be then applying for immigration under the inland spouse category. I had already been telling the customs officials on prior visits about visiting my fiance, and when the wedding would be. I had my bank statements and other documents scanned, and then finally had the visa in hand. It took a good half an hour just for me.

Once I claimed my luggage and headed to the area to clear Mickey into Canada, it was easy! I was the only customer there, so we were seen right away. The minute I took her out of her Sherpa, the two officers on duty made a huge fuss over her. They were cooing at her and gently petting her head, and then told me I could go.

"Um, don't you want to see her paperwork?"

"Oh yes!" A quick glance at her papers showed they were all in order, and we were free to go.

If only it was that easy for me! I moved to Canada on February 19, 2003. The wedding was on July 5, 2003. I didn't have my permanent residency status until April 4, 2004! :)

Happy Valentine's Day and some other news

I wanted to purr a happy valentine's wish to everycat and also to the doggies on Dogster.

There is something else to talk about too. Something happened over the weekend - Daddy got a new cat. Mommy was feeling so veryvery lonely missing picking me up, so she asked Daddy if they could go to the PAW Society on Saturday just so she could hold somebody for a few minutes.

Then it happened. A kitty who needed to be rescued adopted Daddy.

Mommy picked up Garret from a cat tree. He is a seven month old kitty who got dumped outside of the city where we live. He wandered into the office of a petrol station, and then he came to PAW to find a new home. He was living with a foster home before Daddy met him.

When Mommy picked up Garret, he took one look at Daddy and demanded to be passed over to him. Then he immediately touched his nose to Daddy's and then put his lips on Daddy's and he licked him. Linda, the rescue lady, said that was a big deal for Garret.

So then Daddy wanted to bring Garret home. I've only been here at Rainbow Bridge since December 5, and Mommy didn't feel like she was ready at all to have a new kitty in the apartment. She cried and cried, but she saw how much Daddy and Garret loved each other already, and she knew that Garret needed to be rescued. So Daddy called and made an adoption appointment for the next day.

By the time they finally fell asleep on Saturday night, they weren't going to get Garret after all, because Mommy couldn't stop crying about missing me. But then the next morning, Mommy told Daddy that she would be strong so that Daddy could get his cat.

When Garret came home, Mommy had such a hard time. She didn't like seeing him in all of the places where I used to go, and it hurt her very much that she saw him there but not me. Mommy and Daddy made a compromise that the second bedroom is a Garret-free zone where Mommy can keep my kitty house, and her group of little picture frames and her candles for her Monday Candle Ceremonies. Also she can go in there if she needs to get away for a little while. They keep that door closed all the time so my things are safe.

For a few hours, it looked like Garret might have to go back to PAW because Mommy cried so much. But still she decided to be strong so that Daddy and Garret could be together. She's having an easier time now, even though it is still hard. I have been coming around her a lot to help her. I know that she is always my special Mommy and that she can be Garret's friend and that Mommy and I will always have the special-est bond.

The other news is that Mommy finished her first knitted blankie for homeless furbabies. She can't knit with needles and she can't crochet, but she got some knitting looms for blankets and that worked! Tonight, Mommy finished the purple blankie that she started two weeks ago. She even did the last row with her crochet hook without making a mess of things! She's so happy that she can finally make blankies for the animal rescues. She's wanted to do that for a couple of years now, but it was hopeless trying to learn to knit or crochet.

Well, it's time for me to go play with my friend, Sneakers, for a while, so I'd better go. Sneakers is Mommy's friend from when she was a teenager. He's a pretty cool cat.

purrrs...Miss Mickey :)

How I could have left Mommy, but I didn't want to.

I thought I would tell the story today about the time when I could have left Mommy, but I didn't.

Mommy and Daddy moved to a new city in April 2006, because they couldn't afford to live in Calgary anymore. They moved into an apartment on April 19. I had to ride in the car for two and a half hours between places, which I didn't really like very much! I got thirsty, so Daddy stopped and bought me some bottled water. Also, that road trip is when he invented my Tabby to the Bone song. Some guy named George Thorogood did the song on the radio, but I think my version is much better! :)

But anyway, Mommy and Daddy were unpacking boxes in the new apartment. Mommy went onto the balcony and she almost fell because the railing was loose on one side! When the maintenance man came to fix the railing, he left the sliding glass door AND screen opened, and Mommy didn't know it.

That door was probably open for almost two hours before Mommy saw that there was a big gap that I could have easily gotten out of. The apartment is only on the second floor, and a cat could jump down without getting hurt. I was always an indoor kitty, and Mommy's previous husband made me get me front claws out (which Mommy is still mad about). Mommy couldn't find me, and she started yelling ever so loud!

Mommy and Daddy started running around like crazy screaming my name and looking everywhere. Mommy was almost in tears. She was so upset. I came out from a nap under the bed, like "what?" I couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about. Why would I want to leave my Mommy anyway?

Mommy was SO relieved!! I got a lot of kisses then, too many, actually.

Then the next day, the cable guy came to set up their internet and TV. Mommy let him in but he didn't close the front door all the way until it latched. After he was there for about ten minutes, Mommy saw the open door and went berserk all over again! "Mickey!! Mickey!! Baby!!"

I was just hiding in the bedroom because there was a stranger there again. I wouldn't have gone out the door.

Once Mommy calmed down, she started to cry because she was so happy that I didn't want to leave her. She couldn't believe that there were two times I could have gotten out in 24 hours anyway. Mommy is always so careful, but other people weren't, and that upset her. I am so veryvery important to Mommy.

By the time all this happened, Mommy and I had been together for 16 years. I love her so veryvery much! I still don't understand why she thinks I would have ever run away from her. Nobody in the entire eternity could love me more than Mommy, and I love her that much too!

purrrrs...Miss Mickey ♥

A present for Mommy from eternity

This is Renee borrowing Mickey's diary for an entry, because I am ever so touched about something that happened yesterday.

I have been having such a hard time getting used to my husband, Chris's, new kitten, Garret, being around way before I was ready to have someone else in Mickey's space. To make it even harder, Garret is all kitten. He leaps tall bookshelves in a single bound, scales the refrigerator, sits on top of my bedroom dresser, and is a bundle of energy.

I've had to lock away everything that is important to me, because nothing is safe from Garret. I wouldn't want him messing around with any of Mickey's things especially, but I'm also having boundary issues when I put my clothing seemingly out of reach yet return from work to find it on the floor with white fur on it. Or like yesterday morning when the only thing of mine I left out was my closed laptop on the dinette table, and I watched Garret deliberately jump up and sit on top of it as I stood helplessly at the bus stop across the street.

My spirits have been pretty low at times. I am trying to do the selfless thing, since my husband and Garret bonded at the local no-kill rescue place, and since I know that Garret was abused at his first home and needs a good one. It's just not always easy to be selfless. We keep our second bedroom closed at all times so I have a Garret-free zone, and I keep my other important things in my bedroom dresser with a ribbon wrapped through the door handles four times and then knotted to lock it (which is a nuisance to me, but worth it to keep my special things untouched). I also got two water bottles yesterday to help discipline Garret in a humane way not to misbehave.

Yesterday afternoon, I was off from work early. I took advantage of some extra time home to change the sheets on the bed. Now, I searched every inch of this apartment up and down on my hands and knees for leftover fur and whiskers after my baby went Home. Every little treasure has a special place. There wasn't anything left.

I searched the sheets before I took them off and threw them in the wash, even though I knew there shouldn't be anything there.

Then it happened. I was mad at Garret for whatever reason as I walked into the bedroom with the clean sheets in the early evening. Lo and behold, one beautiful curly black whisker appeared on the white mattress pad cover where I couldn't miss it. Where else could that have come from? All of Garret's whiskers are short and white, nothing like Mickey's long Persian ones. I even double-checked the whole area before I started the chore.

Mickey has been comforting me a LOT since she went Home, and even more so since Garret's been around. She has been very clear about the fact that she is with me always wherever I go. She even walks with me to work sometimes.

And then yesterday, she found a way to send one little black whisker as a physical sign to her Mommy.

There's just no word big enough to describe our love.

purrrrs from Mickey's Mommy, Renee

Mickey's soulmate story

I have been a member of the wonderful website, www.petloss.com, for a long time now. I first joined when I was grieving my two hamster babies in the late 90's, but then I started reading more again as Mickey's last days approached. There is a thread there asking to tell about our fur baby soulmates. I started typing, and then couldn't seem to stop! I wanted to copy the story here for Mickey's diary on her tribute page.



My baby, Mickey, is my forever soulmate. This is going to end up long, I'm sure, so sorry in advance if that bothers anyone. I haven't told the full story here, just bits.

I got her in November of 1989, when I was just about to turn 19 two weeks later. At the time, I was pretty much an emotional mess. I had been bulimic since 1984, I was in university with so many people pushing me to be an ever worse perfectionist, heading for a nervous breakdown, and dealing with what I will put in simple terms as childhood abuse issues.

My younger sister and I both wanted kittens, so my mother took us to a breeder of Persian cats. My sister wanted a blue, and I wanted what I called "the ultimate bad luck kitty," a long-haired all-black. The breeder had two kittens that fit that, and we went over to her home.

By the time we got there, the black was gone. They were writing up the sale papers for my sister's blue, and then my entire world changed. A little 13 week old brown tabby girl stuck her head out from beneath a couch that had a frill at the bottom. I could literally feel a cosmic shift.

Only one problem. She wasn't for sale. The breeder had just gotten her from another breeder to use a momma kitten because of her unique coloring.

She had to be for sale. I had to be with her. I would have paid everything I had, but we settled on $600. That was the best bargain I ever got. My sister and I chased her around a bit to take her home since she's always been skittish around new people.

Mickey quite literally saved me. I won't say it was immediately, because I didn't stop being bulimic until I was 24, and I was still dealing with other issues for a while after that. But her light and love gave me something to focus on.

She could be such a brat! She loved to get Davy in trouble in the morning when they got their Fancy Feast. Mickey would purposely sit in front of her bowl and not eat right away because she knew Dave would try to sneak some of her food and get scolded. She sat on a green velvet covered antique chair in my mother's dining room like it was her throne. She would jump up on the table when we went out, and then come down again when she saw the car turn into the driveway, then give an innocent, "what?" pout when someone accused her of being bad.

And then there was the time when my sister and her friends made a lasagna. Being teenagers and not caring too much about putting the other half away properly, they left it on the kitchen counter and went to play video games downstairs. We came into the room later to find two kittens with tomato sauce all over their mooshy faces, being gluttons in the pan. There's so many stories like that!

When I graduated from university, I got engaged and moved out. That had its own set of issues, but Miss Mickey came with me and was there no matter what. By now, she was pretty much like glue, following me around everywhere and sleeping with me too. Mickey was my best friend through a three week hospitalization where I couldn't handle the emotional timebomb anymore and checked myself into a psych facility with a program focused on my type of abuse issues. I plastered her photographs over my headboard and seeing her was the only thing that motivated me to get out again. When I got my first day pass, preparing for discharge, the first place I went was to see her (she was staying at my mom's). She was a little bit uppity because she didn't know why I would leave her for so long, but it didn't take long for her to forgive me. I didn't care about getting out to go back to my marriage, I didn't care about my career, but being with that little brown tabby cat was something that I couldn't live without.

Mickey loved me through all of that, through the first time I tried to leave my marriage, through being pressured to go back again, through gaining weight because I'd stopped purging, through the four years when I left my regular job to help with my ex's conventions and I had to leave her for two or three long weekends every month. We got to be side-by-side on the other days, but being in another city so much and not sleeping with her hurt.

Mickey had a sweet little ritual when we moved to one particular house. I had my own bedroom again, sleeping on two futon mattresses stacked on the floor. Mickey would cuddle at the foot of the bed and purr me to sleep, then she would go and do a kitty patrol around the house to make sure all way safe before jumping up to her favorite bed at the time. It was a blanket nest on top of two storage containers in my closet. I always left the door open for her.

We snuggled in the tangled up blankets on the floor-bed. We made room for each other like two little peas in a pod in my double-papasan chair. At least two big pillows, two blankets, me, and a little six pound tabby. It was like a cocoon, and we loved it. Mickey went wherever I did. If I went to the bathroom, she came too and then followed me back again. If I worked in the upstairs office, she slept on the Lazy Boy recliner. She had a special affinity for sunbeams. I sang songs to her several times a day. Anything set to music was fair game to have the words changed to be about Mickey. I had her photo drawn, I kept every whisker and claw she shed, I had her paw prints cast. I always said she was so generous with her things, leaving me little whisker presents. There were two things Mickey hated. Getting brushed and being away from Mommy. (Well, three things...the few times when she needed a bath were truly horrid).

She moved with me so many times from that first trip home from the breeder. Home became the place where Mickey and I lived, not any one particular location. I separated from my first marriage for good in February 2002. She came back to my mother's, she and I got our first apartment alone together, and then she immigrated to Canada with me when I met my human soulmate who also became Mickey's Daddy. That also started the era of the digital camera, where my collection of tabby photos grew by thousands!

In February 2003, I packed Miss Mickey up in her Sherpa and we boarded a flight to Seattle that would connect to Calgary. It took me a year and a half to get my immigration red tape all worked out, but it took Mickey all of five minutes. The officers that I thought would be all paperwork and seriousness cooed and fussed when Mickey came out of her carrier. She was a very good girl for that entire 13 hour journey. No accidents, and no loud meowing on the plane until I made a whirlwind 90 second trip to the lavatory. The minute I sat down again and she knew I was back, she was content again. The other passengers around us commented that they didn't even know there was a cat on board...well, except for our neighbor sitting in the window seat who was kind to let me put Mickey's carrier on the empty center seat between us.

Mickey and I moved twice in Canada too, ending up in a small city in southern Alberta when Calgary got too expensive. I'll never forget her Daddy grinning at her when George Thorogood came on the radio, and changing the words to be Tabby to the Bone. He was that enchanted with her too. :)

Three years before she went to Rainbow Bridge, Mickey was diagnosed hyperthyroid. But she couldn't tolerate the tapazole. It made her white blood cell count fall dangerously low, so she wouldn't be able to fight off infections. Luckily, it bounced back. But she wasn't a candidate for radioactive iodine either, even if we could have lived through the long separation necessary for the procedure. I took care of Mickey as her weight fell, feeding her when she meowed for more, and always loving her. With the exception of her weight loss and increased appetite, you would never have known she was sick. She still loved, she still ate and drank, she used her box properly, she still begged for people food, and she always did take every opportunity for beauty sleep, not that she needed it. :)

The one thing I couldn't do was be ready for her to go Home. I tried. I really did. I had three years to prepare, but how do you ever prepare to be separated from your soulmate? On a spiritual level, I always knew that Mickey was just going ahead to our forever-home, and that we would still always be connected when we were apart. I hadn't heard about the concept of the silver cord, I just knew that Mickey and I had a bond that would never break. On the level of someone who was going to be stuck on this planet and was still prone to the chemical imbalances of depression, I was really scared.

Mickey didn't want to leave me any more than I wanted her to go. My 36th birthday was coming up on December 2, and she was determined to be there for it. We took some spontaneous photos on November 25, and she looked like her light was fading, but it wasn't until the morning of December 5 that she told me that she was very ill. I noticed the previous day that she seemed more listless, so I made a mental note that I would take her to a vet in our new city very soon if she didn't improve. We had been through so many scares where she'd start acting that way, I'd worry, and just when I was ready to phone the vet, she'd bounce around like her old self wondering what all the fuss was about.

But on December 5, I went to kiss her on her lips like I did every morning before leaving for work, and there was a purple lump there. Where did it come from so fast? I'd just kissed her goodnight not that long ago, and it wasn't there. I was heartbroken, and I knew that even though I was able to get her a vet appointment one hour later, that I would be coming back with an empty carrier. The new vet was a wonderful soul, so caring and gentle. He told us that Mickey had a large abdominal mass that he could feel, and that it was an aggressive cancer she hadn't had for very long. The tumor on her mouth was the cancer spreading. It was indeed that fast that it could have grown overnight there. There wasn't anything we could do. She likely wouldn't last another week.

So I did the hardest thing that I've ever had to live through. We went into a special comfort room with a soft couch, with Mickey wrapped like an infant in her favorite pink and white blanket. She was still determined that she wasn't going anywhere. She tried to bite the vet when he put the needle near her paw. She tried to bite his assistant. Mickey just wanted to be snuggled in her blanket with her Mommy. The vet gave her a sedative so she wouldn't be in distress (and so we wouldn't either, it was agonizing enough as it was). We had another ten minutes together to cuddle and kiss and cry and love. When the vet came back in, Mickey didn't even need half of the injection before he said she was gone. I immediately asked, "are you sure?" It never felt like she was gone. He gave me an odd look and said yes.

We had another few minutes with Mickey before they took her away to arrange for the cremation. But there was never a second when I felt like she was gone. I still don't. It wasn't just blind faith, talking about Rainbow Bridge and eternal connections. Mickey is always bonded with me. She gave a faint little meow on the second day I came home from work in tears over her not being at the door as usual. She knew. She told me that she was still there, and not to worry.

Two evenings ago, I was changing the sheets on the bed. I'd checked so many times for any leftover whiskers, claws, or fur after she went Home. I checked the sheets before I put them in the wash. I'd been having such a hard time lately, and do you know what I found? A beautiful, curly black Mickey-whisker right in the middle of the bed! Where else could that have come from? My little girl still finds ways to say that she is always with me, my guardian angel kitty.

How do you end a story like this? I say you don't. How do you put an end to eternity? I would say that Mickey is my blessing, but I am also hers. We love each other in that deep way. If she had been left at that breeder, I'm sure she wouldn't have lived a long 17 years, four months, and three days full of devotion. She would have been a breeder cat, and a little six pound one at that. I don't think her little body would have handled that for nearly so long as she had to be adored the way she is with me.

With never-ending love from your forever-Mommy, Miss Mickey. I love you just isn't enough to describe it.

Kitty Sounds

Well, Mommy wrote a big ol' book before, so I thought I would take over to add this part in. :)

Mommy was telling me how much she loves my kitty sounds, and she can't believe that she didn't write that in that big post. Mommy speaks very fluent Cat and she is cat telepathic with me too.

She says it's hard to pick just one favorite Mickey-sound. Mommy does have a thing about paws thumping when they jump down, and when I made that trilly sound at the same time, you could make a bet that the camera was coming out again!

The trilly sound when I jumped up in bed with Mommy was always a good one to make her fuss. *heh* I am good at making her fuss.

I have a very loud meow, and a love for caterwauling too. But there's not just one meow, there is an intricate language of lengths and volumes that mean different words.

I'm lucky, my mommy understands them all. I understand her too, I just pretend like I don't when she says NO. *teehee*

purrrrs...Miss Mickey :)

Angel of the Week

I forgot to put this in here earlier. Guess what happened? I got awarded Angel of the Week in my Persian and Himalayas group! It happened last Sunday on February 25, 2007 and today is Saturday, March 3 and I am still being it. I feel very special! My picture got put on the group page, and I got a new star. If you are reading this and you don't know about that group, you should click the link on my page and go there. They are such a cool group of cats!

Speaking of stars, I think they're great. When Mommy first joined Catster, she signed up for Plus right away. That gave us 25 rosettes each month, but do you know what, that is just not enough! There are too many special kitties to give them to! We had 10 zealies when we first signed up for Catster. We gave an anonymous star to our favorite doggy, Poochie Puppy Kisses, and then Mommy used up the other 5 zealies to make a sparkly star on my page.

Bear's Mommy was really nice to us, and she gifted us some zealies. That helped! Then Catster was nice and said that if we added new listings and reviews to Local, we could earn zealies. Well, Mommy went to work and added all the places we know about, both here around Calgary and Lethbridge, and also where we used to go in Virginia before we moved. She got up to 175 zealies or so. It makes us so veryvery happy to give out stars and rosettes! So now, Mommy says that she'll just have to spend some of her treat money on zealies when she runs out again.

Oh yeah, and while I put something about the Angel of Week, I'll also put down so I remember later that I got to be a daily Catster Diary pick a while ago. Sometimes I get busy playing with bubbles and butterflies and my Bridgefriends, and also visiting Mommy, that I forget things for a little while!

purrrrrrs....Miss Mickey

Dancing with the Shmoo

It's Mickey's mommy again borrowing the diary. :)

Mickey just wrote something in her Happy Kitties group about how we used to dance together before she went to the Bridge. I wanted to write here about how wonderful it is to dance with your kitty. There is something magical about snuggling your special little furry friend like that.

Now, I know some of you won't believe me, but it's even better when you do it in front of a big open window. Why worry that someone might see you? Just pick up your kitty, put on a good song (Great Big Sea is my favorite), and go! I'm telling you, I would never ever be caught dancing in a nightclub or public place. Who knows how to dance like you're "supposed" to? And I'm about as introverted as they come.

BUT - Cat dancing is an experience in real joy. The love is what drives you, not the steps. Completely uninhibited cat dancing not only makes you happy, but if someone does look in and see you, it usually makes them smile too. The first couple of times you get caught, it makes you jump a little, but after that, you almost want to.

It's all about the kitty love and sharing it, baby. :)

Pretty much anything goes when it comes to dancing, but always be careful when dipping. Don't forget how little your partner is.

Dancing can also bond us to our babies once they go to Rainbow Bridge. My sister has a gorgeous blue kitty named Dave that she got when I brought Mickey home for the first time (you can see his kitten photo on Mickey's album). Davy is a cool jazz kitty. He loved to have his radio on all day so he could listen to his jazz. Well, he also loved to dance to jazz. I would go over to visit him and pick him up, and dance!

Davy went to the Bridge back in January 2001 when his kidneys failed. Not long after that, I found a stuffed kitty made by Ty that looked very much like him. I bought one for my sister and one for me.

A couple of years later, I had moved to Canada, and was missing Davy. I put on our favorite dancing song, which is a version of Oye Coma Va done by Fattburger. I picked up the Ty Davy kitty, and started to dance. Well! In the middle of the song, the kitty purred! It really purred! That was Davy telling me from the Bridge that he was dancing there with me in spirit and being happy that I was still playing our song.

So dancing can also be very comforting too.

I highly recommend it. :)