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One for the memories
Jan. 8th, 2003 12:12 amI miss Gabby, but I'm mostly doing okay. Trying very hard not to think about it too much. But she was such a special little girl, and I want to get down some of what made her so special before I start to forget.
She was this tiny little thing - at the peak of health she only weighed about 6 1/2 pounds, and she was incredibly soft. Even people who had been around cats for ages would comment on her soft soft fur. She was a quirky color mix as well (I'm looking for a good picture to post), kind of half tortie, and half tuxedo cat. One roommate called her the "co-dominant gene cat" because of her coloring. She had these slightly longer white hairs, and if you brushed them without touching her other fur, her back would twitch. If you kept doing it, the twitching would get more and more pronounced, and she'd give you the evilest look. Because she was so small, when she curled up, she formed the littlest teeniest ball wherever she was sleeping
She liked (or maybe just tolerated better than most) being held upside down like a baby. I'd cuddle her like that all the time, and she'd let me scritch her tummy while I was doing it.
She was the only cat I've ever met who liked to be petted while she was eating. She even went through one period where she would wait to eat until I came home, and if we didn't go right over to the food bowl she would cry and cry until we did. I'd pet her, she'd purr loudly enough to vibrate the walls, knead the floor and eat all at the same time. She actually purred loudly enough to almost drown out the sounds of crunching.
She hated to be on the "wrong" side of any door. This generally wasn't a problem, except in the house we lived in when she adopted us, where the bathroom door didn't latch properly... and you couldn't reach the door of the bathroom from the toilet. She'd push her way in, tour the room, accept a few pats then leave, with the door hanging wide open, and you with no way to close the door. In a house with four other people in it. At least the bathroom was a little bit out of the way of normal house traffic.
She loved to burrow under the covers with us at night. I often go to bed first, so she'd snuggle in with me until Wiley came to bed and evicted her. Most of the time she was good under there, but occasionally she'd forget, stretch and snick a tender bit with a claw. But most of the time, she'd just snuggle in and purr, curled up behind my knees.
She loved sitting on my lap while I was stitching, especially in the winter time because then I'd usually have a blanket on. I'd be sitting kind of cross legged, and she'd crawl under the blanket and sit in the space between my legs. She'd usually sit there for as long as I stayed there. She even helped me motor through projects because I wouldn't want to disturb her, so I'd stay there stitching longer than I planned so that I didn't have to make her move.
When you would pet her, and she was really enjoying it, she'd roll over on her back and writhe from side to side, letting you pet her every which way (come to think of it, she never got mad when I ruffled her fur all up either). Sometimes she'd get soooo into the petting that she'd roll right off the bed or couch, and then give you the look that said she just knew that it was all your fault. Which, of course, it was.
She had a weird obsession with Wiley's armpits, but only under some mysterious conditions that we never figured out - he had to be not freshly showered, and wearing deodorant, but there was, I think, more to it than that. When conditions were right though, she would bury her head in there sniffing, and would sometimes try to lick them, kneading while she did it, and again, purring like mad. I think that was definitely her weirdest quirk.
She actually answered to her name. To the point that if she was walking directly away from you, and even if she'd just been on your lap, if you called her name, she would do a 180 and come right back. Or, at least she did for me. I've never had a cat that came when called as consistently or with as little effort.
*sigh* I'm sure there's more, but well, it's late, I'm almost out of battery, and it's really hard not to cry right now, so I think I'm going to stop for now. I miss her so much.
She was this tiny little thing - at the peak of health she only weighed about 6 1/2 pounds, and she was incredibly soft. Even people who had been around cats for ages would comment on her soft soft fur. She was a quirky color mix as well (I'm looking for a good picture to post), kind of half tortie, and half tuxedo cat. One roommate called her the "co-dominant gene cat" because of her coloring. She had these slightly longer white hairs, and if you brushed them without touching her other fur, her back would twitch. If you kept doing it, the twitching would get more and more pronounced, and she'd give you the evilest look. Because she was so small, when she curled up, she formed the littlest teeniest ball wherever she was sleeping
She liked (or maybe just tolerated better than most) being held upside down like a baby. I'd cuddle her like that all the time, and she'd let me scritch her tummy while I was doing it.
She was the only cat I've ever met who liked to be petted while she was eating. She even went through one period where she would wait to eat until I came home, and if we didn't go right over to the food bowl she would cry and cry until we did. I'd pet her, she'd purr loudly enough to vibrate the walls, knead the floor and eat all at the same time. She actually purred loudly enough to almost drown out the sounds of crunching.
She hated to be on the "wrong" side of any door. This generally wasn't a problem, except in the house we lived in when she adopted us, where the bathroom door didn't latch properly... and you couldn't reach the door of the bathroom from the toilet. She'd push her way in, tour the room, accept a few pats then leave, with the door hanging wide open, and you with no way to close the door. In a house with four other people in it. At least the bathroom was a little bit out of the way of normal house traffic.
She loved to burrow under the covers with us at night. I often go to bed first, so she'd snuggle in with me until Wiley came to bed and evicted her. Most of the time she was good under there, but occasionally she'd forget, stretch and snick a tender bit with a claw. But most of the time, she'd just snuggle in and purr, curled up behind my knees.
She loved sitting on my lap while I was stitching, especially in the winter time because then I'd usually have a blanket on. I'd be sitting kind of cross legged, and she'd crawl under the blanket and sit in the space between my legs. She'd usually sit there for as long as I stayed there. She even helped me motor through projects because I wouldn't want to disturb her, so I'd stay there stitching longer than I planned so that I didn't have to make her move.
When you would pet her, and she was really enjoying it, she'd roll over on her back and writhe from side to side, letting you pet her every which way (come to think of it, she never got mad when I ruffled her fur all up either). Sometimes she'd get soooo into the petting that she'd roll right off the bed or couch, and then give you the look that said she just knew that it was all your fault. Which, of course, it was.
She had a weird obsession with Wiley's armpits, but only under some mysterious conditions that we never figured out - he had to be not freshly showered, and wearing deodorant, but there was, I think, more to it than that. When conditions were right though, she would bury her head in there sniffing, and would sometimes try to lick them, kneading while she did it, and again, purring like mad. I think that was definitely her weirdest quirk.
She actually answered to her name. To the point that if she was walking directly away from you, and even if she'd just been on your lap, if you called her name, she would do a 180 and come right back. Or, at least she did for me. I've never had a cat that came when called as consistently or with as little effort.
*sigh* I'm sure there's more, but well, it's late, I'm almost out of battery, and it's really hard not to cry right now, so I think I'm going to stop for now. I miss her so much.
