Kelly McCullough writes fantasy, science fiction, and books for kids of varying ages. He lives in Wisconsin with his physics professor wife and a small herd of cats. His novels include the WebMage and Fallen Blade series — Penguin/ACE, and the forthcoming School for Sidekicks — Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan. His short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. He also dabbles in science fiction as science education with The Chronicles of the Wandering Star — part of an NSF-funded science curriculum — and the science comic Hanny & the Mystery of the Voorwerp, which he co-authored and co-edited — funding provided by NASA and the Hubble Space Telescope. Kelly on Twitter, Facebook, G+, ello
We lost our wonderful black cat yesterday completely unexpectedly. Laura went to get her for snuggles and found her cool and stiff. I think she might already have been dead when I took the picture of her in the Friday cat blogging immediately below this. It’s the position she was in when we found her tonight—curled up in one of her favorite spots. She was fat and grumpy and a bully who beat up the other cats, but she was also a sweetheart who loved to snuggle with her people and had a marvelous diesel engine purr. I’m in a complete state of shock as I write this. She hadn’t given any indication of poor health. A cat we loved is simply, suddenly gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it except mourn her. That’s the second cat we’ve lost in four months and I’m kind of broken about it. Please people, hug your loved ones and tell them how much they mean to you. You never know when the chance will be gone forever.
Here’s what she looked like when we brought her home.
Move over old man! (Spot passed not long after this)
She approached napping with reckless abandon.
She was an explorer and too smart for her own good.
I conquered the kitchen!
I is in your drawers walking on your stuffs.
Hey there, want to bring me some treats?
I like treats.
I really really like treats!
Keep the plates coming thumb-monkey, I’m just getting started.
She possessed a certain gleeful malevolence.
If I was your size, I’d eat you. You know that right?
I am secretly the dragon Toothless.
It my chair, back off.
My puzzle my rules.
But she could also be playful.
All shall love me and despair.
She was utterly devoted to her nap partner. (Asleep on Laura’s chest)
She didn’t take shit from anybody.
Well, most of the time.
She could look grumpy in the most elegant of circumstances.
She adored the sun.
And the radiators. Here she is on a low bench I made so she and Meglet
could get up and down more easily as they got older.
She was very interested in the neighbors.
This is her watching robins build a nest above the window.
She was gluten free and knew which shelf she belonged on.
Adored the screen porch or anywhere she could be above other cats.
I am the queen of the bathroom!
Did I mention she knew how to sprawl.
Dignity was not her long suit.
Really really not her long suit.
She loved to hang out in our reading nook.
Or anyplace with defensible borders, really.
She had a talent for looking bored.
And for being comfortable in her skin.
This is how I saw her the most often—peering over the edge of a basket
I’m going miss her so much.
December 4, 2015 in Uncategorized
I think I’m going to take December off from cat blogging because I don’t have it in me right now. I just need more time to recover from losing Meg. I will return sometime in January.
Thanks for your patience,
I can’t begin to express how much I don’t want to have to write this post. My little Meglet cat died last Friday, October 30, and I am going to miss her forever. Over the years I’ve had to say a final goodbye to six dogs and seven cats that I thought of as mine to some degree. All of them were special to me, and much loved. But, as anyone can tell you, some beloved pets are extra special. Meglet was one of those for me. We brought her home in April of 2004 after she stole my heart at the Humane Society, and she spent much of the eleven and a half years since then curled up on my chest or in my lap along with my beloved Isabelle cat, often forming one half of what I refer to as my catvest. I wrote fourteen novels with her on or near me.
She had spent two years at the Humane Society where they had named her Nutmeg. That quickly became Meglet once she got here because, like Winnie the Pooh’s friend Piglet, she was a very small animal—eight pounds at her heaviest, and three and a half when we finally had to let her go. But she was fierce and fearless and incredibly scrappy. She was also incredibly social—always willing to come out when we had guests and to greet everyone and collect pets and skritches. I think her years at the Humane Society were part of why the one thing she loved nearly as much as hanging out on my chest was lying in the sun on our screened in porch where she could smell the wind and feel both free and safe.
Meglet made marvelous little chirping noises that always sounded to me like she was asking: Murder? Murder? in the most cheerful way imaginable. Meg was an inveterate snudger, which is something between a snuggle, and a nudge, and a smear where she would rub her nose and lips across your cheeks and ears. Every night when I came to bed, she would stand on my chest and press her forehead into my chin as hard she could and just purr her heart out. She was utterly devoted to me and I adored her, and now she’s gone forever and I’m heartbroken. That’s all I can bear to say at this time, grief always robs me of words.
Goodbye little Meglet, I love you.
My last Meglet catvest on Friday
And here’s Laura modeling the catvest.
The week we brought her home
In my old screen tent office on the custom built cat perch.
She swore mortal vengeance on her tail.
She wasn’t much for dignity.
But she loved her monkeys, and wanted to be ON them, dammit!
Climbing Mount Monkey Wiktory!
Here she is helping me with one of my books.
And sleeping between my knees.
Every so often she’d get what we called her “crazy eyes.”
Snuggled up in the down comforter.
Love this shot of her. I think our catsitter Paula took it.
With Isabelle and our late and much loved Leith cat in my lap.
Sunbeams and happy smiles.
Sprawling in my lap while I played video games was another favorite.
Lying in the sun on the screen porch.
Meg loved that Laura always let her finish off the milk from her cereal.
Two of her favorite things in the whole world, a fire and a sunbeam.
Did I mention a lack of dignity?
She loved everybody. Here she is with our friend Matt.
She adored the windows in my studio.
I just love this shot.
She was queen of the top of the stairs.
I set a couple of logs on the windowsill and she claimed them as hers,
preventing me from putting them away.
This was what it was like every night when it was time for bed.
Most mornings too.
This was her pick me up face, I saw it a lot.
I will miss this smile so very much.
Shh, do not reveal my secret identity.
You’re Captain America? Kiss me you fool!
Your ideas interest me, my I subscribe to your newsletter?
If she’s Captain America, I’m the incredible Hulk.
I could believe that.
More like incredible Bulk…
Shh, do not tell anyone I am here. I am the invisible Marie Cat.*
*With thanks to Lynne and Michael Thomas.