He was personable (always ready to be held and share his unparalleled cuddling skills), talented (he could fetch as well as any dog out there), selfless (having taken his adopted younger sister, Weezy, under his wing in our huge house), and as hardworking as a feline could be (which is to say, not very).
Some memories that come to my mind and shared by others will be cherished. For one, George could eat anything. He would famously put his paws on the dining room table at dinner time and peer onto the surface not-so-subtly hinting that he felt excluded. At least he was not choosy; he'd eat bread, fruit, and anything else he could get his paws on.
He was decidedly self-sufficient in other ways. He awed many an onlooker by cranking the bath tub faucet to the on position in order to get a drink. He never had a problem with opening it up only slightly enough to coax out a drizzle, although when the shower stop was left up, he was in for more than he bargained. It was also problematic when we corrected the fact that the left valve opened the cold water. As a righty, George always preferred the left side. But he pressed on, never worrying about the fact that he couldn't close what he so easily opened.
We loved the way he would stand guard at the front window of our home, hopping off his perch excitedly as he saw us pull in the driveway. Out of the same window set he once decided to escape. We had the left windows open so the fresh paint on the sill could dry; his paw prints were the crucial evidence we needed to bring him up on charges.
If we had to list one fault, it was his impatience, at least in the morning. Though he would sleep well through the night, when morning came he needed that first meal, and devised ever more diabolical methods for waking the humans. At first he could strum the metal blinds, making an awful grating sound. Then he would drum the steel file cabinet in from a standing position, causing a steady beat that said, "Wake up!, wake up!" He then moved on to patting one's face, gently at first, with incrementally greater tenacity and claw.
We and our friends share many more wonderful memories of that cat (how about the time he was lost in a Utah snowstorm on his first Christmas?) Please comment back and share those memories here.
George, you will be missed.
1 comment:
George was always first at the litter box, right after I changed it. He'd dash in as if he had been waiting in a long line!
He enjoyed playing the game of escaping from the front or back door when we had guests who weren't aware of our indoor cat policy. He’d come running back for a bowl full of food – it never failed.
I had a gold fish die, but the gold fish had no personality. George on-the-other hand was a great cat. Guests loved him because he was friendly, and could sucker anyone into feeding him; even if they didn’t like cats.
It's really sad.
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