Memories

I swear Skilly is mourning the loss of Madie, even though all he ever did to her was smack her around and ambush her as much as possible.  He just sort of walks around all confused, which is actually how he always walks around, fine, but he seems sad.

We're all sad.

Madie died on a Thursday, when the girls were on vacation with my parents.  We broke the news Saturday morning.  They took it pretty well.  In the hush that followed, I told them that we were going to go out for dinner that night and talk about our favorite Madie stories.

Johanna was all, I have one!  Remember when I sat in the bean bag chair and Madie swiped me and got blood?

And the rest of us were like, yeah, that sounds like our Mad Dog.

We had a lot of stories to tell.  Eric and I brought Madie home the week after we were married, so there was plenty of material:

As a kitten, Madie loved to run races with herself around the living room and into the kitchen.  Then she'd calmly walk into the living room to her imagined starting point and begin the race again.

Once a HUGE cat with a head the size of Madie's whole kitten body was at the back door, and Madie came unglued trying to protect us.  Good thing there was glass between them, because Madie had no concept of her small size.

Madie liked to cackle at the cat in the window.  Which was herself.  

She loved to cuddle.  If you were sitting down, she'd find her way onto your lap.  At night she'd sleep on my legs.  If you were laying on your stomach, she'd come sit on your behind.

Madie HATED the car.  And she hated being away from home so much that when we had her fixed, the vet decided not to keep her overnight after all.  She was a homebody.

She LOVED the dirt.  Rolling around in the rocky driveway was a big part of her day.

Madie never met a sunny window she didn't like.  If the sun was shining through the window, that is where she would take her nap.

She was also a big fan of quilts.  If there was a quilt out, that's where you'd find her.  If the sun was shining on the quilt, bonus points were given.

And boxes.  Madie moved four times with us, and her favorite part was the boxes.

She was so super smart.

When Eric was working on our first house--a manufactured home--and getting up at the crack of dawn, Madie would decide that I'd slept in long enough.  She'd stand on my back and swipe my ears until I got up, and then she would march to her cat dish like, breakfast.  Excellent.

Once during that time, she tried to hop up on the table to get at my cereal bowl.  I blocked her and she fell off the table in a heap... and then got up and started halfheartedly swiping at a spot on the floor, as if to say, ah, yes, this is exactly what I was trying to do.

She had one bath in her entire life, and she was so traumatized we never attempted it again.

She used to sleep under the covers with me, her head on my pillow, her paws around my neck.

She shed like the dickens.

About four years ago we went on vacation... and she never showed up at the house the entire time my in-laws were supposed to be taking care of her.  We figured that she was gone.  Abby was all ready to make a memorial in the tomato bushes, since that's where Madie liked to hang out in our garden, when suddenly she just walks into the house like nothing had even happened.

Soft cat food at dinnertime was the best part of her day.

When she got older, she got crankier.  When we brought Skilly home, Eric was sure that would kill her, but she just disdainfully continued living.  We thought that maybe she would get used to having him around... but she never did.

We probably let her go on too long in too much pain--I think the last couple of years at least she's just hurt, and the way she was drinking water, I'm also pretty sure she was diabetic.  I'm sorry about that, Madison.  It was just that it was hard to let you go.  You are an awesome cat, and we love you so much.  We hope you're up there chasing birdies and taking lots of naps in the sun.