Tuesday night we had to put our cat Micky to sleep. It's the first time I've ever had to make this decision, but
unfortunately, the efforts that were made to manage his severe kidney failure were not enough.
Micky was pretty well traveled cat. He found him as a baby the summer of 1992 when I worked at a garden
center back home in Maryland. He spent a year in Virginia with me during my last year in college, moved with
me to Denver, went back to Maryland with me, and a couple of years ago, came out to California to live with us. Micky
was fond of what I call the "smackdown"; He would roll on his side and then on his back and I would rub his chin at which
point he would stretch his front legs straight back like he was being held up. He would lay contentedly like this while
I rubbed his belly. He often stared at his food with a look of dissapointment but still wanted to cuddle.
It's strange not seeing him at the door when we come home. I think even Luna senses he is gone and has been more
mellow. At least he was with me on my birthday on Saturday.
Micky in pictures:
After he snuck out and got in the crawl space under the house:
The only time he slept in the Noro Kureyon kitty bed that I made for him (yes, I put him in there):
Playing with the cat toys I knit for him:
We'll miss you Mickster.
