This is a repost from 20 months ago, in honor of Puck. Puck has been missing for three days now (hence not much blogging). I'm beside myself with worry and spending pretty much all my time scouting the neighborhood, calling her name. Too sad to post much aboutg it, so I'm reposting this. It tells you a little bit about her. She will be 14 years old in 5 weeks:
Aside from repeatedly handing every worry and fear over to God, I have my three furry family members to keep me from going completely insane.
Never underestimate the power of 'pet therapy'.
To the right is a photo Nastia just took of me and my cat, Puck. She has been with me for over twelve years. She has made eight moves with me, and is the most easy-going, intelligent cat I have ever met. Her only fault is a penchant for snacking on chipmunks and baby birds. Other than that, she is on the fast track to sainthood. She puts up with loads of unwanted attention from her canine sister, Matilda. She sleeps in the curve of my neck every single night. She enjoys a good nap, like me. She is also the only neatnick in a house of clutter-bugs. She puts up with alot. And I adore her to bits.
She has been there for me, through bad break-ups and deaths and adoption heart-break, and she also doesn't seem to mind that I have gained a full forty pounds since I brought her home. She is very non-judgemental that way.
I do find myself getting nervous as she approaches age thirteen. I bargain with God all the time to keep her here for another thirteen. Heck, why not let her break the Guinness world record for feline longevity? Here she is enjoying one of her favorite past-times:
And then there are the other two.....
Henry is five, and a very shy boy. He sticks close to me and to Puck, and doesn't really enjoy anyone else's company, if he must be honest. Matilda (the little one) just turned two, and has given me pause more than once to ponder God's possible sick sense of humor. She is a little hellion. She harasses Puck and Henry with equal fervor. She eats whatever she can get her paws on. She talks incessantly (and I do mean incessantly). She has also made no less than five emergency trips to the vet for eating things that could kill her. A cast-iron stomach obviously, as she is still alive after ingesting all of the following:
- Two pounds of dark chocolate
- two dozen brownies with nuts
- a pound bag of pistachios --including the bag
- a barbie leg
- a ball of tinfoil
- half of a rare vintage children's book from 1860
- a half-box of refrigerator word magnets (that came out in her poop one word at a time...)
- half a roll of scented toilet paper
- a rubber duckie
- an entire carton of leftover chinese spare ribs
- a 12 oz bottle of scented peach body lotion...
The other one is obviously working for the other side...