Minkey’s Gone to Heaven

It’s taken me a long time to write this. Minkey died at age 17 on September 21st, 2012.

I was unavoidably away from home at the time. My little chocolate Siameasle had cancer, and I decided not to have him euthanized because he was still very happy and cuddly and talkative. I was living with my son at the time; the only person Minkey ever really loved, besides me. My son used to hold him up to my apartment pegboard ceiling when he was a kitten to see if the ceiling “spots” were bugs, so he was special to Minkey ever afterwards.

And when we moved in with my son in 2010, he was very kind to Minkey — who actually used to cuddle with him.

I was away from home but did not realize there would be no cell phone coverage in the place I was staying. As I left the next morning, I got a text from my granddaughter telling me that Minkey had died at midnight.

I called my son and found out that Minkey had become disoriented and unable to walk some hours earlier. My son couldn’t find a vet that was open or that would return his call, so he nursed Minkey on his chest, wrapped in a towel. He soothed and petted Minkey, speaking to him gently and calling him all his favorite names. And at midnight, his little buddy “Minkey-kins” slipped away.

My son and his children made him the most beautiful grave in the garden. My oldest granddaughter dug a flower bed on top of it and planted herbs and perennials. My son placed an ornamental garden bench there so I could sit with Minkey when I visit (I now live over 1,000 miles away from my family). And my youngest granddaughter painted a headstone.

I am very grateful to them for making Minkey’s last hours as comforting as possible, as well as making such a lovely garden.

But my heart will always be broken that I was not with him when he died. After seventeen years, my little Minkey-mings deserved that.

In Cat Years, That’s…

Thanks to those who wrote, wondering where we were. No, in spite of Minkey passing his fifteenth birthday (which is really old in Siamese years – about 77, according to this chart) we’re both still alive and kicking.

2010 was a year of relentless loss after loss, both big and small:  From the old TV set packing it in to having to leave our little cabin in the woods and move in with my son… who has a big tabby male cat named Beauregard. (My camera is one of the many things in my life that Died last year, so I don’t have a photo yet, unfortunately.)

Minkey and Bobo’s days go something like this:

  • 5:00 a.m. Wake Grandma (yrs. truly)

    7:00 a.m. Cuddle respective owners during morning coffee in living room and flash smug glances at each other

    9:00 a.m. Race round house for No Apparent Reason, occasionally bumping into each other

    9:10 a.m. Discreetly use each other’s litterbox

    10-noon Disappear into separate bedrooms for snooze

    12:05 p.m. Complain that the fresh water isn’t fresh enough. Persist until Grandma changes it (again)

    12:10 p.m. Eat own lunch.

    12:13 p.m. Switch: Finish each other’s lunch

    1-2:00 p.m. Sleep together angelically.

    2:05 p.m. Wash each other affectionately

    2:20 p.m. Disappear for several hours

    5:00 p.m. Play with toys. Have catnip orgy. Eat dinner

    6:00 p.m. Mooch under table/raid counter (they take turns. And neither did this before moving in together.)

    7:00 p.m. till bedtime: Have minor tiff. Sleep (about a foot apart). Compete for owners’ laps.

    11:00 p.m till 5:00 a.m. Hunt each other. Scratch, claw, bite, hiss, pin each other down, thunder all over house, play at “War” on respective owner’s beds, use owners as trampolines…

In other words, they seem to be having fun. And in spite of all the nightly teeth and claws from Minkey and throat-ripping from Bobo, neither has a scratch on them: At its worst, it’s more like exasperated mother cat and bratty kitten (with Minkey being the bratty kitten).

I must say, since moving in with Bobo, Minkey seems about ten years younger (in cat years).

Must be all that exercise!

Meezer World Domination

So Tolkien called me “the Fauna of Mordor”, did he?  Well, there are more of us Siameasles than he knew, I’ve just discovered (by prowling the Twitosphere).

Except they call themselves “meezers“… for some strange reason…

For example, take Cocomeezer… another cat who tweets, and knows how to keep their Minkeyservant busy.  The Cat Post Intelligencer is my new favorite blog!

Oh yes. And I have got control of this one back from Minkeyservant again. Changed her password. She will never figure it out, since I have no idea what I was tapping.

It was very easy. I just purred her to sleep when she was foolish enough to lie down on the couch. Then I danced on the keyboard with my pointy little clawzles.

Now must go recruit some Orcs…

J. R. R. Tolkien on Siamese Cat Behavior

The last thing I ever expected to be talking about on Valentine’s Day was J. R. R. Tolkien, famous author of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. However, two odd coincidences made up my mind…

First, I found this old photo of Minkey trying to sneak into my suitcase as I packed essentials (a warm sweater, a spiral-bound notebook and The Two Towers) for a trip away from home, last year.  Then I came across a letter written by Tolkien himself, in 1959, to his publishers, Allen and Unwin.

It seems a Cambridge cat breeder politely wrote to ask if she could register a litter of Siamese kittens with names taken from “Lord of the Rings”.

The Fauna of Mordor

Tolkien’s reply to his publisher was…

…”My only comment is that of Puck upon mortals. I fear that to me Siamese cats belong to the fauna of Mordor, but you need not tell the cat breeder that.”

‘Scuse me. I’m off to read this priceless gem to the Eye of Sauron, who is sleeping the sleep of the remorseless on my clean, warm towels.

(Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!)

Cat Blog Customization

Today, I decided to make the text in this blog BIGGER. Really, I am surprised Minkeyservant didn’t think of it before, considering what terrible eyesight human beans have!  (They can’t even see in the dark!)

*Pook!*  *CLICK!* Done.

Well, that was a lot of work, so I am going back to toast my back end over the baseboard heater. Sometimes I sit on it. Sometimes I climb into my boxie in the bathroom, and bake myself to a crisp.

What do you think?  No, not about boxie toasting; that’s a “given”…  Is the new text size better, or did you prefer it the way it was before?

Merry Christmas 2009

minkey-christmasWoke up from my winter nap because it’s Rustly Paper day.  Yes, once a year, there are lots of things wrapped in rustly paper, with killable dangly bits attached. And a mysterious, wonderful SMELL that has nothing to do with roasted birdies, sent by Auntie Sandi, who only visits Minkeyservant to see ME.

(Auntie Sandi understands cats, and never screams like Minkeyservant when I accidentally pook her with my clawzles.)

I hunt through all the rustly paper, killing everything on the way, of course, getting dizzier and dizzier until I feel like a kitten again – a kitten who is ALL POWERFUL!

Finally, I find it. I smear the source of the SMELL all over my had and body and roll in it. It’s always in the smallest package of rustly paper, but my theory is, all the big ones are put around it to hide it, so I won’t find it.

But I always DO – Muwhahahaha!

Well, I’m going to sleep off my smell-bath now – speared it with my claw, soaked it with my tongue and smeared it all over my body.  Will wake up when roasted birdie is ready. But I’ll say what I’ve been hearing Minkeyservant say all week to you foolish mortals…


Real Live Talking Cat Breaks 14 Year Silence!

minkchihuahuaAlright. So I do know how to speak Human, take a photo of myself with the camera – and type with my pointy little clawzles! All those hours on Minkeyservant’s shoulder while she worked… and she thought I was just being affectionate – MIAO-WAHAHAHAHA!

This “work” she always has to do at the computer has taken over our lives together! I tried everything – bribing her with my best toys, singing my best songs, hurling myself affectionately from the far end of the room to land on her keyboard…  But all she kept saying was: “Sorry, Minkey. I’m too busy. Got a deadline.”

Offered to kill deadline for her – I’m good at killing – but she did not respond. I am afraid she is not as smart as she thinks she is, and barely understands two words I yowl.

Then, one horrific day, I woke up from a nap and discovered… all that writing – and she hadn’t written a word about MEEEEE for WEEKS AND WEEKS!

Accessed computer while she was sleeping – I know all her passwords – MIAO-WAHAHAHAHA!  Figured out how to set self up as “User “(something she is still trying to do, by the way).

Have fired Minkeyservant, and taken over this blog.

Writing own posts, from now on.

Tired. Must go nap.

Owner Gives Cat H1N1

bedI know I’ve been AWOL lately – but I’m not the owner who gave her cat H1N1. I’m afraid it’s not a joke: I read a bulletin that has just come out on the AMVA (American Veterinary Medical Association’s) website.  Apparently an elderly cat (13) came down with respiratory symptoms after his human family members passed on the virus.

(NB: It did not occur the other way round. The cat did not pass the virus onto his owners.)

I guess now we have to worry about our pets, as well as our families.  (The AVMA has provide a FAQ sheet you can consult, to learn more about H1N1 and your pet.)

Wonder if they’ll develop a pet H1N1 vaccine?  Somehow, I doubt it…

Cat Communication Habits You Shouldn’t Emulate

chihuahuaMinkeySometimes we develop cat communication habits we aren’t even aware of. Take me, for example…

I’m a copywriter who ghostwrites web and advertising copy. I work at home… and Minkey is my only companion during long hours at “work”.

This morning, while planning an article, I decided to use my computer’s speech recognition capabilities to dictate the key points – the bare “skeleton” – instead of typing them out.

My plan was to time myself, to see which way really is quicker: Typing or dictating.

My little experiment proved 2 things to me:

  1. I’m way faster typing!
  2. I have some really baaad Pet Communication Habits

I’ll show you what I mean. Now, I know this stuff is dry, and Speech Recognition programs are not known for their brilliant punctuation skills, but bear with me. Read every word… and you’ll see what I mean about “baaad cat communication habits”. Ready?

Government reports
trade reports minke shut up
News reports
Existing surveys minke shut up

The important thing to remember minke shut up is that primary data generated by others can be used, if you are careful about correctly citing your sources minke will you shut up I cant think straight with you yelling your tiny face off thank you

When you are studying statistics, however, it is important to consider all the things they are not saying. Your data for the most part minke shut up already exists. It is there within your target markets habits, patterns and preferences.

Your percentages and numbers are known as quantitative data. Qualitative data is less tangible. Quotes your store minke shut up feels crowded endquotes, is a good example of qualitative data. It is not measurable by any unit…

You see, when I start dictating into the microphone, Minkey immediately starts to Sing. He yammers and yowls and chatters non stop. It makes it hard to concentrate (and doesn’t help me write exciting prose!)

It’s a good thing my headset mic doesn’t pick up Siameasle. He could be saying anything, you know:

My, lovely weather we’re having today, Minkeyservant…


I love you SOOO MUCH – and I’m so excited you’re finally talking to me after reading all those stupid books…”


$#%(*& frickenschnickencrazylady, stop #$%$#*! talking to yourself already, you’re driving me NUTS…

Or then again, maybe it’s just: “Minkeyservant, shut up…”

Cat Horoscope To Blame?

MinknotismThe trials of Minkey’s sudden New Age mellowness… This morning, I awoke to the melodious sound of violent bazooka-barfing, right beside my bed.  It’s my own fault, really. I wasn’t able to get Minkey’s special Royal Canin Siamese food so I made do with another expensive premium product.

I blearily got up, cleaned it up, and did all the other tasks involved in the disposal of revolting cat presents.

By this time, I was thoroughly awake, in spite of finally having fallen into bed at 3:41 a.m. – only 2 hours before.

Minkey, of course, was blissfully asleep by the time I finally sat down at my computer.

I fired it up, downloaded my emails for the day and prepared to get back to my job as a ghostwriter.

There in my spam filter lay a “CatScope” from iVillage.  Intrigued, I previewed it. And this is what it says for “The Taurus Cat”:

“Open up and make sure that your human companions really know how you feel. It’s a good time for you to make a big show out of disdaining food you don’t care for or otherwise showing off.

That cat is just plain spooky sometimes, you know…


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