Category Archives: The Tiny Fang

Yellow Mouse.

In the dispensing of Spot’s estate, there were many simple decisions to be made.  Where should the litter boxes go?  The trash.  What should we do with his food dishes?  He ate from a rotation of ramekins and saucers, so those simply ceased to be placed on the floor.

Spot was a cat with many toys in the sense that we bought him tons of them.  Balls with bells in them!  Stuffed trout!  A cat-sized mouse with ribbed belly for scratching!  Crinkle mylar balls!  Catnip mice!  Plastic loops!  Battery powered hamsters!  Feather darts!

Spot was a cat with few toys in the sense that he largely ignored all of them, leading to a giant crock filled with unused toys.  He primarily concerned himself with his fur mice, his squeaky mice, curling ribbon on gifts, hair binders and his leash (it might be a snake).

Last night Mom presented me with two mice and asked me which I would prefer.  There was a fresh looking blue mouse that had two eyes and a set of whiskers.  And then there was Yellow Mouse.

As a Tiny Cat, Spot was a great retriever of mice.  We joked with family friends that he was really a Siamese Retriever, because we would squeak the mouse and then we would throw it across the house where it would first hit the wall and then fall to the floor with a second thud.  A thundering set of paws would follow and  shortly thereafter the mouse would be returned to us for another round of Hunting.  As Spot grew older, the need to retrieve diminished, but his desire to prey upon these static creatures remained.  So our bobcat-sized Siamese cat continued to stalk.  Throughout his life, when we were not home or able to Hunt With Spot, it was not uncommon to come home and discover a mouse either drowned in his water dish or placed in his food dish.  How else could he tell us that he had made a big kill in our absence?

So I chose Yellow Mouse, because his eyes are long missing as are his whiskers.  The yellow flocking that remains is barely yellow, and the rest of it has worn off as the result of many battles.  Yellow Mouse, who was always vanquished and never a victor, was a worthy adversary for Spot.

Yellow Mouse

Mom handed Yellow Mouse to me last night in the hallway and I squeaked him and that was okay.  And then she looked at me, told me that I was doing it wrong and proceeded to throw the mouse against the wall where he made a first satisfying thud and a second, more bittersweet thud as he hit the ground to the absence of thundering paws on the attack.  My heart clenched a little bit then, because I realized that this is precisely the sort of thing that you don’t even think to miss until it is directly in front of you.  The squeak of the mouse.  The thud.  The thundering paws.  It is so strange to think that something so small, a mouse with its own tenuous grip on mousehood, could open such a hole.

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The Greatest Cat That Ever Lived

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We put Spot down today.  He was 12 years old.  For the past three months he has struggled with Stage 3 kidney failure.

There is nothing I could write right now that could possibly be fitting or right to share about his life.  We have known that this day was coming, and I have spent a not-insignificant part of this weekend ugly-crying.

We (Mom, Dad, Billy and I) spent the morning with him up on The Big Bed.  There was not a moment where one of us was not petting him.  A long time ago, we agreed that if he didn’t die in his sleep, we were not going to force him to go to the vet’s office.  He has never loved the vet, and the last thing that any of us wanted was for him to be sick, afraid and in a strange place.   Through the services of MN Pets, he died sitting in Dad’s lap, on his favorite blankets, with all of our hands on him.

At the beginning of June, I looked at someone and said, If this month ended tomorrow, it would be too late.  I was not kidding.  I lost my little cat brother today.

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Another Cabin Weekend

This weekend, Marcus and I joined Mom, Dad and Spot Up North At The Cabin.  This was our wedding-free weekend, and what else were we going to do besides go to The Cabin?  I know we could do a perfectly fine job of relaxing at home, but that is what winter (crosses self) is for.

On Friday night, when we were debating dinner options, I suggested that maybe we could go to Norway Ridge.

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It’s a swanky little supper club (I put on Real Pants), and on Friday nights they have All You Can Eat Smoked Ribs.  I have been dreaming of them since the last time I ate them, and they were 100% on my summer bucket list.

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Yes, I ordered seconds.  Did I mention that they make their own BBQ sauce?  Another plus.  Obviously.

It was supposed to pour all weekend, and miraculously, it didn’t.

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So Marcus and I ordered a pizza To Go from Zorbaz and enjoyed the afternoon outside.  I even shared one of my camo koozies with him.

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The couple that koozies together stays together.

We each took turns casting off of the dock and caught nothing, which wasn’t terribly surprising.

Marcus: What are you going to do if something bites?

Me:…Catch it?

This was also the weekend where the dragonflies came out of the water.  So we engaged in Science Hour.

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They actioned their annual swarm last night and was so fun to watch them swooping and winging their way over the water.

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Between the sun, the 19 hours of sleep I got over two nights (OMG The Sleep) and the fresh air, there was not a single moment this weekend that wasn’t gorgeous.  All of it was hardcore restorative.

Next Stop: 4th of July Week!

Checking In.

I know it has been a week since the last time I blogged, which is pretty much insanity in my world.  But mostly this post is just an excuse to show you this picture of Spot if you do not follow me on Instagram.

Sis and Fang.

He never, ever prefers to be held like that, but I managed to capture him as we were opening presents and once he was done letting me hug him in the way you might expect the Honest Toddler to, he curled up in my lap and did his best impression of a Therapy Cat.

In other news, I have a vicious, vicious cold right now.  I have used nearly an entire stick of Chapstick on the parts of my face that Kleenex touches and I think I am experiencing the definition of Bone Tired. Seriously.  I slept 10 hours on Christmas Eve.  I didn’t even run yesterday and I am capable of running through Most Everything.

So, there is all of that.  I am probably supposed to share some sort of pithy thoughts about the meaning of Christmas now or the presents we unwrapped or whatever.

What I know for now and what I know for this year is that I am so, so, so blessed to be surrounded by the people that I love.  And connected to the ones who we cannot be near.

Easing Into Things

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I got to use Spot as a hot pack for my quads today.

Cats.  So selfless like that.

Obviously, there’s more to tell, but right now I’m watching some West Wing and getting ready to fling myself into bed.

Icicles and Fangs.

We’re meant to be getting hit with some major snow tomorrow, which I am sure that y’all probably find to be Just Fascinating.  Personally, I’m living in denial because I refuse to believe that we could get something on the order of another half-foot.

Anyway, we’ve had some really terrifying icicles for the last month or two and I’ve been meaning to take snaps of them forever.

Finally.

Usually this sort of thing isn’t noteworthy, but I think we can all agree this is Different.

Our house.

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The house on the hill.

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How ominous, I know.  You can’t make this stuff up.

Snowstorm NOT included, I am so thrilled that it’s finally March.  It’s not spring just yet, but we are so (SO) close.

For a bit of sunshine, some snaps of Spot.  Which, if you follow me on Instagram, you’ve already seen.  Mom and Dad were on a cruise last week so Spot and I got to log some quality time.

Translation: LOTS of purrs.

After spending the first 5-7 years of his life thwarting any and all photography, he is finally given to cooperation every now and then.  So I take far more pictures than I should when the opportunity strikes.

Yes, I realize that some of them look pretty much…the same.  There are only so many poses one can strike when you’re sitting on a lap.

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The couch is kind of our place.  You see, it’s best for everyone involved if you pick a comfortable place to sit while your varmint tries his hardest to cut off the blood supply to your legs.

This is the price we pay for love.

Cat Lady Blogging

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Because it was 60 degrees in November today.

Spot was just thrilled.

As were the rest of us.

Going Outside is the epitome of living the life.