The Little Ship
by Scott Hardie on November 17, 2012
Our cat Sweetie Pie passed away in her sleep on Thursday night after a very long illness. We don't know how old she was -- she was my mother's cat before mine, and my grandmother's cat before that, and belonged to some other lady in my grandmother's nursing home before then. We have that stranger to thank for giving her the old-fashioned name, but it was appropriate: Sweetie Pie was a friendly cat, who was happy when company came over (especially if they fed her treats!) and very cuddly and affectionate towards Kelly and me. Like anybody, we had plenty of dorky nicknames for our cat over the years:
"Fat Cat" / "Princess Yum Yum" - She was fat when I got her and she soon put on more weight. I guess pet obesity is more widespread in 2012 and she wouldn't be considered fat today, but in 2002, her twelve pounds seemed hefty. She ate everything she was offered. Her favorite treat was sour cream: I would sometimes pick up dinner at Taco Bell just to bring home a little cup of sour cream that she proceeded to lick clean.
"Snaggletooth" - She lost a lower front tooth and it left her mouth lopsided: The left side of her mouth had a prominent lower fang that sometimes stuck out, making it feel rough when she rubbed her cheek on your hand, and when she licked herself, her tongue was often left sticking out of the right side.
"My Little Shadow" - She was dog-like in her sense of loyalty. Wherever I went in the house, I could turn around and there she was, following me. When I wasn't around, and sometimes when I was, she would follow Kelly instead. This led to occasional traffic jams in narrow hallways, but we managed.
"Gollum Cat" / "Scrawny, the Sicker Thrower-Upper" - After she began rapidly losing weight in 2008, she was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, which supercharged her metabolism and made her anxious all the time, screaming for more food because she could never get enough. She turned into skin and bones, first 7 pounds, then 5, then just 3 pounds a few days before she died. (That bump in the middle of the photo is her rib cage.) She also lost her ability to digest anything but vet-prescribed Science Diet, which made for all kinds of messes on the carpet when she swallowed some particle of who-knows-what off the floor, which happened often because she mistook everything for treats in her disease-addled mind.
"Stinkerdoo" / "La Stinkerita" / "Stink Miser" - We had plenty of variations on this one. Her hygiene suffered towards the end of her life and she sometimes needed help with a bath, and she left little "presents" for us to find around the house. But she was still our precious little cat, and we wouldn't have given her away for anything.
We're very sad to lose Sweetie Pie, but we're relieved that she's not suffering any more, and we're grateful for what she gave us: Countless happy memories of playing and laughing, years of close and constant companionship, and a link to my long-departed grandmother. The morning after she died, I came across this on Facebook:
I stood watching as the little ship sailed out to sea. The setting sun tinted her white sails with a golden light, and as she disappeared from sight, a voice at my side whispered, "She is gone."
But the sea was a narrow one. On the farther shore a little band of friends had gathered to watch and wait in happy expectation. Suddenly they caught sight of the tiny sail and, at the very moment when my companion had whispered, "She is gone," a glad shout went up in joyous welcome, "Here she comes!"
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
All King and No Kubrick Make Jack a Dull Boy
I recently got to talking with friends who liked The Shining, both Stephen King's novel and Stanley Kubrick's film adaptation of it, but who were unaware that King has always loathed the movie, despite its reputation as one of the best horror films ever made. It's hard to imagine that a writer doesn't know his own work better than someone interpreting it, but I think this is one of those rare cases where the writer is just too close to the story to get it. Here are three reasons why I think Kubrick's film better understands the material, and is better overall, than King's novel: 1) In King's version, Jack Torrance is a fundamentally decent man who wouldn't hurt a fly, but who is down on his luck and desperate. Go »Pass Me the Green, I Need Some Trees with My Tennessee
Kelly and I just took a short vacation to Gatlinburg: Two days there, with two full days of driving to make it happen. We've been itching to get out of the house during this awful pandemic (and to use Kelly's PTO before it expires), but with options limited for places to go safely, we realized that we could rent a cabin with family and just go hiking and birdwatching and grilling, avoiding crowds in favor of natural spaces. Kelly's immediate family from Illinois drove over to join us. Go »Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring, Banana Camera Phone
I need to get a camera phone. I keep seeing things that I want to take a picture of, but I don't bring my camera with me, and even if I did, I wouldn't be fast enough with it. Yesterday I pulled up behind a landscaping truck that had one of those "how's my driving?" Go »Pandora
[This post wound up being very long-winded and self-absorbed, but that's what blogs are for, I guess.] For years, I've gotten increasingly picky about how I listen to music. Sometimes I just want to listen to everything I have on shuffle, but sometimes I want to get more specific like only music from one genre on shuffle or all songs by one artist in chronological order, and sometimes I want to get really specific, like songs about dreams or artists from Michigan or recordings featuring violins. Go »Jacked
It's good to be back online. We lost our Internet connection at home on Tuesday, and it has only come back on for a few minutes sporadically ever since then, just enough time to send a quick email before it vanishes again. Making sure goos got published in time wasn't easy. Go »
