My Eulogy To My Cat, Milhouse

Dear Milhouse…

You owe me $5.

Or I’m convinced you would have owed me $5 if you had been my people roommate.  You wouldn’t have been borrowing the money maliciously, you just would have been constantly forgetting your wallet.  I always envisioned your human self as a laid back, pot-smoking surfer; a hell of a good time and hard to be mad at.

Hence why I did not get mad at you long when you did the following things:

  • Vomit.  Every morning.  Usually on something unwashable.
  • Eat dust bunnies.
  • Launch yourself into the rafters on the 9 foot ceiling of our loft apartment to the point I thought we’d have to be those losers who call the fire department to get their cat down.
  • Chase your sister around our first apartment at top speed and force Angry Mildred to bang her broom into the ceiling for the 57th time that day.
  • Excuse yourself from our backyard to go to the neighbour’s backyard forcing me to leave a confused, 1 year-old T-Man in our yard all by himself so I could chase after you.
  • Tear a hole in every one of my knitted sweaters during your “Pet me. Pet me now.” quest.
  • Sit on my hands when I was trying to type.
  • Sit on my chest when I was trying to sleep.
  • Sit on my lap every time it was shedding season and I was eating.
  • Meow at a pitch that made every time feel like an emergency.

You (and your sister) were my fur babies for 5 years before the skin babies came.  You kept me company when hubby worked late.  You snuggled with me when I was sick.  You ate the last chip out my bowl when I wasn’t looking.  Yep, pretty much every time.

This last Christmas, I could sense your time was coming.  I didn’t need the vet to tell me your 17 year-old body was starting to fail you.  I could tell myself.  But I am grateful for having been aware.  Your sister was fine and then she wasn’t in the course of 24hrs.  I got to have so many more pets with you, so many more snuggles, so many more shared pieces of cheese.

Please send me a sign that you aren’t eternally pissed that I let the 3 year-old carry you around.  I tried to stop her but she’s like a ninja – she just kept finding you again and again.

Please know that I loved you dearly.  Please know that I will miss you every time I type.


Your Human Mom

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