Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Goodbye, Bobo

On December 27th, the greatest fur-baby known to man passed away. You were my friend, my confidant, my woobie, my comforter. You slept in my hair, along my back (sometimes wedged between me and the back of a chair or the sofa), on my belly, curled around my arm. Not all at once, mind you. When I was at home you spent most of the time near me. If I was watching TV and sitting on the couch at least one paw had to be touching me. When I got home from work you nagged me. And nagged me. And nagged me. When you wanted food you nagged me. When you wanted to be picked up you nagged me. When you wanted to go outside you nagged me. Now you're gone and it's too quiet.
Dad used to tease me about squeezin' the stuffin's out of you. It's true. If I was sad you'd stick your slimy nose in my face to show that you were there for me. If I was excited about something you'd look at me as if I'd lost my mind then shake your head and leave the room. If I was happy you'd sit next to me and purr your quiet little purr. When I talked to you you'd talk back. When I got on to you (you know you really really liked to walk under my feet as much as possible) you'd go hide but come back a few minutes later to make amends. You liked to ride around on my shoulders. I think it made you feel tall. You hated all men except my dad. You looked like Elvis because you walked around with your lip raised. (He was missing one of his top fangs so his bottom one pushed his lip up. Very entertaining for people but sometimes very painful for him. The men thing and the tooth thing had something in common. But I won't get in to that.) You hated it when I went out of town and did everything you could to prevent it. You seemed to forget each time that I could easily lift you out of the suitcase. And you voiced your anger upon my return at being left but forgave me quickly. I hate that I only had you for a couple hours after returning from this last trip. You cuddled in my lap for a little while and then I left you to go see a movie. I just didn't know what I had accidentally set in motion.

We went through so much together. You jumping out of the third floor window when you were just 3 months old. I'm not saying you tried to end things right then and there but jumping out a window right after losing your manhood did make me wonder. Riding across the ocean in an airplane. Riding in an even smaller airplane and making everyone listen to you voice your opinion from the cargo hold. Several moves across the country. Living with Chance, the stupid cat who tripped me while I was walking downstairs. I truly believe he was in cahoots with "the man". A divorce. Living in a teensy tinesy apartment with absolutely no room to move. A niece (mine) who was too small to hold you but did it anyway. Thunderstorms (you hid under the bed until you realized that I'd protect you). Snowstorms (you loved these because the really good ones meant I'd be staying home). Earthquakes (who thought I'd ever be able to say that?). Your buddy,Gizmo, setting his own tail on fire. (Don't ask.) He's not the brightest of critters.
This house just isn't the same without you. No one grouses at me while I'm cooking in the hopes that I'll give in and share my food. No one leaves a perfectly good tiled kitchen to throw up on the living room carpet almost every morning after scarfing down their food. No one scratches on the door while I'm trying to relax and take a bath. No one shreds my arms when they're only trying to show that they're content or my legs when they're sitting in my lap and something startles them. The only thing I really minded was the puke. That was just gross. All of these things could be trying at times but without them your absence is so much more obvious (that's not the word I was looking for but it's the best I can do).
Words will never be able to express all that you meant to me. You couldn't quite make the loneliness go away but you sure did put a big dent in it. One of the books I'm reading contained the following description. “A cat that you’ve shared a bed with, until the feel of that fur, that small body is like your pillows, or your sheets, just a part of a safe night’s sleep.” I think that author must have met you at some point in time because that description is most definitely you. I loved you so much and let you down at the very end. I am so sorry for your pain but I thank you for letting me say goodbye. I'm also sorry that you died having to listen to my spaz crying. That is so not the way to go. I would've sung to you but for some reason my singing always made you leave the room. So rude.

No fur-baby will ever be able to take your place. You were one in a million and I am so thankful for the sweet lady in Belgium who found you for me. To say you will be missed is the understatement of the century but I know you'd understand. Goodbye my friend and thank you.

P.S. To those of you who read my blog I promise I'll return to our regularly scheduled programming soon.
P.P.S. I'm really not a bad singer. At least that's what Gizmo tells me.

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