Pookie


American Shorthair/Siamese
Picture of Pookie, a male American Shorthair/Siamese

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Home:New York, NY  [I have a diary!]  
Sex: Male   Weight: 20 lbs.

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   Leave a treat for Pookie

Nicknames:
The Pookster

Quick Bio:
-mixed breed-cat rescue

Pet-Peeves:
doesn't like strangers

Favorite Food:
Whatever, and lots of it.

Skills:
Pookie is a free-thinker who shits outside the box.

Dwells:
indoors

Arrival Story:
On the day I put my beloved orange tabby, General, to sleep, I needed to rescue another cat as soon as possible. A friend told me about Pookie, and that he was at a nearby pet store; the people who owned the store wanted to use him as a store cat, but he was too much of a scaredy-cat, so they offered him for adoption. I was a regular there, so they gladly gave him to me.

Bio:
Pookie is most definitely part Siamese; he's a talker. I often have whole conversations with him, especially when he needs his morning fix (of catnip.) I call him my low-budget Siamese.

Forums Motto:
I'm a free-thinker

The Groups I'm In:
Black Cats Crossing our Paths, Rainbow Bridge Kitties

The Last Forum I Posted In:
Lil' Billy IS eating my PLANTS!!!

I've Been On Catster Since:
August 11th 2004 More than 10 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

Catster Id:
60171


Meet my family
Tipper (in
loving memory)
Buddy-boy (was
a true friend)
TripodStacey
Jerry SpringerCorky the
Yorkie
Stacey II

Meet my Feline Friends
See all my Feline Friends
See all my Feline Friends
 

Pookie's Sad Tale


I Used Up My Ninth Life

April 19th 2005 4:21 pm
[ Leave A Comment ]

Last night I expired; during the day I would cry out periodically from my place behind the big guy's chair, and then be silent. I heard Mom saying she'd rather have me die at home than take me to that place where they give you a lethal injection.

He gave me a dose of the drops, and then I felt better. I don't want to cry anymore.

 

So sick

April 15th 2005 7:26 pm
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Last week the big guy finally took me to the doctor. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't put up much of a fight getting in the bag.

The doctor was gentle; he looked in my mouth and saw that my teeth were all crusty, and then saw a lump on my tongue. Maybe they'll figure out why I'm having trouble eating (it hurts!) The doctor said I weighed 15 pounds. He stuck me with a needle and I fell asleep...

Mom is spending more time on the floor with me stroking me and telling me I'm a "good kitty"; I purr, but it feels rough and my breath whistles in my nose. It's funny how they change; not long ago, she was shooing me out of her room whenever I pooped there.

But she gets me fresh water when my water gets cloudy; I'm drinking a lot of water now. I especially like to lean over the sink and get it from a bowl in the sink, so she makes sure it's fresh.

The doctor said the lump wasn't a "squamous carcinoma" (whatever that is), but it is a carcinoma (whatever that is.) Mom is sad; she keeps saying she didn't expect this and how can I have cancer and she just wants to make me comfortable - but then they try to squirt some awful-tasting stuff in my mouth and I get it all over my front. I'm a mess; I can't stop drooling and my front is all sticky.

I like it when she strokes me, though; I purr. And I still sit on Dad's knee when he watches TV.

 
See all diary entries for Pookie