And yet, we prefer to remember our kitty as she was - full of life, a bit grumpy now and then, and loving beyond compare. When people say cats don't show affection, I just shake my head. The Wabby was very affectionate. She liked to be with us, wherever we were but especially in the evenings, she would come and lie on the bed and just purr.
Before moving to CO, even before we met Tom, there was just me and the Wabby, and our Carmie, the Shepard-Lab dog who was the Wabby's best friend. We lived in a small house in upstate NY. I will never forget one Saturday morning, as I was making the bed (with the Wabby sitting on the corner daring me to try and make her move)... when we heard a rustling on the floor by the closet where the Wabby's food dish was.
A brazen MOUSE was sitting there, eating her kibble! The Wabby watched it for a moment, and I watched her. Her eyes got so big... her body tensed... then, she turned her head ever so slowly and looked at me as if to say, "Aren't you going to do something? That mouse is eating my breakfast!"
"You're supposed to chase the mouse," I told her.
At this time, Carmie entered the room - likely to see see what we were talking about. Carmie saw the mouse and was immediately in tracking mode. Before I could laugh out loud, the mouse was off! Carmie was off right behind it - and Wabby, after a second's hesitation, decided she'd join in the fun, since the dog was leading the charge.
What ensued was a 3 Stooges comedy act. The dog was hot on the mouse's tail... the mouse was too fast and ran through the house (it was a ranch so the chase went from room to room and back again)...and the cat settled herself in the dining room, ready to pounce if that little creature came near! (She was never much into activity that required running). And, me... oh yeah, I was there. I was chasing after them shouting, "Wait, don't hurt it! Let me catch it and put it outside! Carmie, don't hurt the mouse!" All the while carrying a pot - yes, a cooking pot, which I was going to trap it with.
Round and round we went. Wabby would creep out from her safe hiding place to check on our progress, now and then... "Where is it?" she meowed at me, at one point.
"It's going into the spare room," I called over my shoulder, hurrying after it, and Carmie.
Wabby padded after me, trapped the mouse momentarily under the computer desk... and dutifully stayed there, waiting... after it had circled round the back and run out into the hall.
Whew! I'm tired out telling this story. In the end, I trapped it with the pot. I slowly slipped a piece of thin carboard underneath, and carried it outside. I took it deep into the backyard... we had a big, deep yard at that house, and let it go.
When I returned to the house, Carmie was waiting. She gave me an expectant stare, tongue lolling out of her mouth, drool dripping on the kitchen floor. "Where is it?" I imagined her saying, as she poked her nose into my knee, trying to get at the pot...
"It's gone, " I said, matter-of-factly. "Now, let's get back to business. Where's Wabby?"
Wabby,of course, was on the bed, grooming herself. She looked up as I entered the room. "You are going to change that food, aren't you?" she seemed to say, turning her gaze on the kibble spilled about the floor. "I can't eat it now - it has mouse germs."
I started to say, "Sorry, there it is. Eat or not." But, Carmie came to the rescue. She circled around my feet, and... gobbled it up in one gulp. Then she smiled up at me. "Any more?" she asked.
Ah, just another Saturday with the Wabby and Carmie. RIP my precious pets.