(The following occurred right after I posted about taking a blogging break. I need to post this now, rather than waiting until spring.)
Noodle was a one-of-a-kind cat. Not in his breed, which was everyday Tabby, but in his personality. He was lively, mischievous and an all around pain in the whatever. And I was silly in love with him.
Noodle came to live with my son when he married Staci. Sort of a package deal. They also had Charlie the Beagle, who was kenneled during the day while they were at work, because he had a passion for chewing on cupboards. Noodle spent his days harassing poor Charlie, who couldn't get to Noodle to teach him some manners. Eventually it was decided that Noodle might be happier living with me. Charlie would certainly be happier.
I don't know for sure whether a cat has the capacity for revenge, but I would almost swear that Noodle did. When I wouldn't share a pan of brownies with him, he stomped through the middle of them.
When I banned him from my bedroom because he thought that chewing on my hair was lots of fun, he would sit outside the bedroom door and yowl at the top of his lungs - at 2:30 AM. When I left the house without his permission, he made sure that he knocked my computer mouse off the desk and onto the floor. (I finally got a wireless mouse and hid it in the desk drawer when not in use.) He has been known to knock all sorts of things off onto the floor, but he was particularly fond of my mouse.
My Yorkies loved Noodle. The cat food dish is kept on top of my chest freezer in my kitchen. This is to keep the dogs out of the cat food. But Noodle didn't mind sharing. He would flip pieces of the dry food out of his bowl and onto the floor. As long as the dogs were there scarfing up the cat food, he would keep on flipping it to them.
I have a pillow behind me on my computer chair for back support. On top of that pillow was Noodle's favorite spot to sleep. But only when I was sitting in the chair. When I got to the point where I was in danger of sliding off the chair, I would reach behind me and scoot him off the chair and onto the floor. That didn't bother Noodle in the least. He just strolled under my chair and hopped back up on the side opposite of where he had been unseated. Time and time again. He could have played that game all day.
I am not sure of Noodle's actual age, but he was no longer young. For that reason I kept an eye on him. The Sunday evening after Thanksgiving, I noticed that he was acting a bit odd. He didn't try to jump into my chair, or any of his other sleeping spots, but would lay quietly on the floor next to me. He yowled once or twice, and I put him on my recliner, his usual nap spot. The next morning I couldn't find him. He was usually waiting for me by his food bowl every morning. I hunted for him and finally found him sleeping behind my TV stand in the living room. As he was sleeping, I left him alone. When he came out in the early afternoon, it was obvious he was in distress. It was then I called David, who came right away and took him to a vet. There was nothing to be done for him.
Noodle lived with me for at least 8 years. Maybe longer. He was like a naughty little boy who, when he does something bad (but never really bad), you have to try really hard not to laugh while scolding him.
I hope that Kitty Heaven has lots of things to knock onto floors and lots of dogs to harass. And most of all, lots of pillows to snooze on.
Opus 2017-392: The Traditional Post
37 minutes ago