Thankful for: 12 Years with My Cat

Tuesday was a sad, but inevitable day at Casa Greenlee. Our fluffy tuxedo cat, Jinx, saw the end of her days after a string of close calls. When they say cats have nine lives, they were talking about Jinx. We rescued her on her expiration date--after hours--at the pound, and from there began a mostly wonderful dozen years. Jinx wasn't a scairdy-cat, and had little fear of people. She was cool with you rubbing her belly, and you could play with her toes. She could be bitchy, but in a way that was full of personality. She was a vindictive pooper. But always in an easy-to-clean spot. And, she was my buddy. I'm married to a flight attendant, so when The Other Half is away, I always have had someone to talk to.

Now that she's gone, the house is less a home. And I find I'm talking to myself. It's a transition every pet owner makes, especially if it's their only pet, and for such a long time. Honestly, the sadness is bearable, as I know she had her life extended so many times. The hard part is definitely the decision to actually make the call, to end things. We couldn't do it the first day. Or the second. By day three, we knew we were just stalling, and committed. Blubbery messes we were. Jinx was just sort of annoyed, though she enjoyed her treat of beef jerky. She was her same adorable, fluffy, aloof, bitchy self on her last day. Which was kind of perfect.

As essentially an atheist, I can't really go in for mysticism, or spiritualism. But there is a little wistful part of me that hopes if there is anything to any of that stuff, that my cat gets to lounge on fluffy clouds, and eat endless bags of Jack's Links jerky, and piles of Daddy's rugs to poop on. RIP, Jinxy. You'll be a tough act to follow.

Clinton Cat, Socks, Near Death

Image from source, US News

Poor kitty. When the Republicans went after the Clintons, they didn't stop with the human members of the Administration and family. The even went after the Clinton's cat, Socks. Something to do with the Christmas card list, or something, who cares. As a cat lover, it was nice to see a White House pet other than a dog.

But Socks' lives are running out, as unfortunately happens to all pets sooner than we'd like. As I often say, a pet is just a little tragedy waiting to happen.

[Excerpt]

Clinton's Socks the Cat Near Death

We have some bad news today on the presidential pet front. Socks the cat, probably the most photographed presidential kitty in history, has cancer and isn't expected to live. "His days are numbered," says Barry Landau, a friend of Socks' master, Betty Currie. Landau, a presidential historian and author of The President's Table, tells our Suzi Parker that the Currie family could have put Socks on feeding tubes, but decided against it. "They fear he is too old," adds Landau, who is writing a book on presidential inaugurations. And a second source told us that Socks is gravely ill. . .

Read more at: US News