by Noella Noelophile®
It started with one insistent, “Mieuw.”
It ended with a sad, but not unexpected, discovery, fifteen years later.
Our little cat, “Snuggles”, crossed the Rainbow Bridge two weeks ago.
I won’t dwell on the illness that ultimately took her from us at the age of fifteen. Except to say that accepting that being owned by a cat is, as someone else once observed, “lots of good days, and one terrible day”. (And wish I knew who’d said that, originally, to give them credit.)
In this post, I’ll pay tribute to our little kitty by remembering the good days.
An unexpected introduction
We first met our small family member at the local shelter. We’d already chosen one cat, and were looking for a second.
In the lobby was a cage with two kittens in it.
As we walked past, a silky black paw suddenly came through the wire.
“Mieuw.”
The owner of the paw, and the “mieuw”, was a five-month-old, solid black kitten.
We were instantly smitten. I’d always wanted a black cat.
At that point, “Jet”, as we first named her, had made the decision for us, on our second feline.
What’s in a name
Not long after we’d brought her home, we discovered that our sweet little kitten had two sides to her nature.
One was the “snuggledy” kind, where she’d trill her way down the hall, jump onto the bed and purr.
The other: a feisty creature who took no stuff! Pet her once too long, or do something she disliked, and a full-paw swat was forthcoming!
She once demonstrated that capability with my husband.
Cats are no fans of sneezes.
Before I could say, “Bless you!”, kitty had jumped onto his computer and demonstrated her annoyance!
We agreed that Jet was the “biker chick of catdom” with her cattitude, and my husband christened her “Dr. Jet and Ms. Snuggles”.
Then we discovered that the “sweet kitten” side came out a lot more often if we used the name “Snuggles”.
(Makes sense. How many humans do you know who really wish their parents had named them something else?)
“Snuggles” she became.
A pint-sized toughie
For the rest of her life, Snuggles would let everyone know who was in charge.
Despite her small size (the shelter had named her “Bitsy”, and she was still petite when fully grown) she never left room for doubt about her likes and dislikes.
She would come trotting when she heard the cat-treat box being shaken.
No one with feta cheese on their salad was safe from insistent mieuwing.
And she was determined that our older, and larger, cat, Snow, wasn’t going to get anything she didn’t have! Snuggles never hesitated to poke her nose into the hand of whoever was feeding them the treats, right in front of Snow’s face.
She would also come to the kitchen for food, and sometimes abandon her own food bowl to eat out of the bowl we’d just given Snow!
“Kitty, that’s half of the same can from which we just fed you…” was immaterial.
We also had to referee who would get the tallest spot on the cat tree. Snuggles was not shy about smacking at Snow to try to get her to move!
Love–on her terms
Snuggles liked affection–until she didn’t.
She’d jump on the couch at night and purr when petted, until she’d get overstimulated. We had to watch carefully for the signs that she’d had enough and was ready to swat our hands away.
Everyone in the household experienced that, including Snow.
We still have our video of Snow licking Snuggles, whom she appeared to have adopted as her foster kitten. Snow, who has mother-cat vibes to this day, would wash Snuggles and at first Snuggles would reciprocate.
And then, the attention would become too much.
Snuggles would pounce, swat and nip at Snow.
“Hey, hey, hey,” my husband would chide.
Following the bad boy’s lead
To this day, we think Snuggles’ “cattitude” was partly due to a boyfriend’s influence.
Our neighbor’s outdoor cat, “Boots”, came to our back door and looked in at her on a regular basis.
And Boots never hesitated, as a street-smart outdoor kitty, to use the paw to get what he wanted.
He was the undisputed king of our block, accepting neighbors’ offerings as his due.
Didn’t feed him quickly enough? Your ankles were in for a smack!
And as covered in a much-earlier post, one summer night years ago, Snuggles managed to paw the screen off a window and escape into the back yard.
We can only assume she had a fun night, exploring with Boots, before she slipped back into the house unseen–scaring us half to death in the process because we thought we’d lost her!
We’re still getting used to not hearing “Mieuw” around the house.
We miss you, little one. Hope we gave you a good life–and that we see you again, when our natural time comes.