Tuesday, December 19, 2006

About Toonces

This is why he was weird and wonderful.

  1. His affection always turned to biting. He loved to snuggle and purr and be petted as much as possible, but could not help himself from eventually chomping on whatever human flesh was available. Sometimes when rubbing his face on my leg as I stood in the kitchen "cooking" he would have to add a nip or two, just to show that he meant it.
  2. He could not resist his Master's voice. Thomas would peek around a corner and say "Toonces!" in this very authoritative voice. No matter what Toonces was doing, he would respond with a meow. Sometimes he was at full attention, rapt with the peekaboo game; other times he was busy grooming or staring at the wall (I believe he was trying with all his might to resist) but he would still meow his response, almost involuntarily.
  3. He pretended to hate the bunny belly game, but I have pictures to prove otherwise. Case in point, the picture at the top of the page. This was a common Toonces reaction to me entering the room. He knew I would try to rub his belly, thus making him "mad" so that he could play and bite. Anything that lead to chewing on my hand was a good thing.
  4. He was a ninja with purring issues. He would wait until he thought we were asleep, then he'd jump on the bed and walk between us. Sometimes he would just stand there, deciding whether it was safe (it wasn't), sometimes he would take a shortcut across us with a particularly heavy tread, especially when jabbed directly in the gut. When he slept on a pillow beside my head, he would purr and sniff my hair. Sometimes he would walk on my hair and step on my head.
  5. If you got him really riled up, he spat. I have no idea what this was, but it was fantastically weird. This was best brought about by the "There's Something Alien and Fast Under the Covers That Is Trying to Prod Toonces" game. It was a kind of Kih! sound. And if he got ahold of your alien hand under the covers you'd feel it, even through a bedspread.
  6. Toonces ate half a mouse once. He never told us why the top half was tastier.
  7. Toonces loved me. He even let me pick him up sometimes. Not with a happy face. More of a "For you, for a minute, but then I'm going to kick you in the eye. It's nature, honey."

Friday, December 15, 2006

My Baby

We had to put Toonces to sleep last night. We spent time with him, petting him and talking to him, before it happened. We stayed with him while it happened. I am so grateful that I got to be with him as he died so that I could tell him he was a good boy. He really was, and I loved him with all of my heart.

You would have to know me and my whole life story to understand why I loved Toonces so much. The fact that he grew attached to me and loved me meant more than what you will ever know. What matters is that I know. I am grateful that I knew him, cuddled him, was bitten by him, kicked in the face, and head butted for three wonderful years.

This is a picture of Toonces doing one of the many weird and wonderful things he did when I knew him. I would be standing and cooing at him (as girls do, I'm afraid) and he would look up at me with wide eyes and begin to knead the floor like a kitten. This would make him appear to be swooning for love of me and you can imagine how much I adored it. I would pick him up for kisses and he would kick me in the face. I am going to miss him terribly. My Toonces.

Friday, December 08, 2006

It Must Be Acknowledged

Mary Ann McDevitt was not a close personal friend. For a time, she was a pal, a friend of friends, and I thought the world of her. Here is why:
  • She laughed from the gut. When she laughed, you did, too.
  • She opened her home and her life to anyone, even a stray like me.
  • She took care of people and she meant it.
  • She had the most enormous cats I have ever seen and will probably ever see outside of a zoo.
  • She had a great house, full of personal style, that was classy and comforting all at once.
  • She was whip smart but never talked down to anyone.
  • She was a lovely person that I could never forget.
Mary Ann passed away unexpectedly yesterday. I just wanted to say that she was wonderful so that anyone who might read this would know it.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Glorious Chicken Display

For about 3 months (since just before the trip to England) I had a Glorious Chicken Display in the Grand Fall Tradition across the front of my desk. It consisted of:
  • 1 faux fall foliage garland in hues of yellow, orange, and red
  • 1 glorious chicken made of Styrofoam and real feathers plucked from a chicken

Needless to say (but I will): It was brilliant. My love for my Glorious Chicken Display was slightly more intense than that for my grand delusions of creativity. I took down the display, but not before interviewing 5 people. None of them seemed a bit fazed. Perhaps (do I dare dream?) they share the unabashed adoration of chickens in all their weird, yellow-eyed, twitchy glory. Yummy, too. I would guess, however, that each was determined not to look directly at it, but to look glassy-eyed straight at me. Chickens can be terrifying.

Behold, there is no foliage to admire, but here is the Glorious Chicken itself. Breathtaking! Behold! Note also the ivy at its side, bought new to replace the crusty, dead one someone shouldn't have entrusted to me. Start the death clock, because the great irony of my life is my inability to keep ivys alive. A sign? All chickens point to Yes.

3 Pounds of Hellfire

So I've found new meaning in life, specifically: I need a pomeranian. Don't judge, bitches. It is practically a cat or small bear. If the word D-O-G gets your knickers bunched, get over it. It almost looks like a fruit bat, for gadzooks. It's like a fruit bearcat.

My neighbors have been harboring a fugitive pom for a few months. I never saw it, at least until last Saturday when my errands and the pom's poopy-time coincided. Let me tell you: Instant love. It (she?) was a ball of fur with beady, dark eyes, fox ears, and tiny little feet. It looks like a live-action version of a Tribble. But with shiny eyes. When it jumped on me, it weighed less than a Twinkie.

What I knew on that elevator ride was this one, true thing: I must have one. I don't care how rotten-to-the-core the little bastard is, I WANT ONE.

This dream...and the dream of living far away up route 1 on the wind-y road and nestled amongst the redwoods...is boosting my spirits. I am also loving that little freak, Weird Al, and his skillz in "White and Nerdy." You can't not be impressed, Yo. http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoID=1194164636&n=2