Make sure you get my good side.
You’re so vain, you probably think this blog is about you.
Well, duh. Everything is about me.
Wrong. This monkey is all about me.
Here, try this one. Still life with me. Also, fork. Perfect portrait.
No. I’m a perfect portrait.
Okay, y’all are weird. Everyone know this is how portraits work.
Thanks to Kim, Jonny, Neil, and the National Gallery
This is the third of three photo tributes I have put together for our late and very much lamented Isabelle. The first is here along with the links to other lost friends. And here is the second. I also eulogized her in some detail here.
This is how I think of her most often, asleep or purring in my lap.
She was happiest there.
Or on a shoulder—so happy she would get drooly.
In her last summers we took to letting her join us on the deck.
She loved it and was far too mellow for us to worry about her bolting.
I loved sitting with her by the fire.
Here she is demanding we cancel winter so she can go out.
Which is in character. She could be very demanding.
But she more than earned her keep in lowered blood pressure.
She was also good at doing the writer cat poses.
And the geek cat.
She could be incredibly dignified.
Even when dignity was maybe not the best play.
We called this her “break my heart” pose, as arthritis started gnawing her.
But even stiff and sore and late in life she could sometimes simply sprawl.
This is her “Why are you not sitting on the couch?” face.
I love this picture for the composition that’s it’s doubly painful.
This is the afghan my grandmother was making me when she died.
Every morning after Laura showered she hopped into the tub for reasons.
Waiting in the sun at the top of the stairs for her monkeys.
She loved the western windows on a sunny afternoon.
And the eastern ones in the morning.
When there was no sun at all, there were always blanket forts.
And cat pods.
Or sprawling on the monkeys’ laps.
She often played the centerpiece on the dining room table.
I miss this so much.
My life as cat furniture is a huge a part of who I am.
Both of my special girls are gone now, though Chamomile is helping there.
I miss seeing her “helping” Laura with puzzles.
I miss having her snuggled in her heated bed on my writing chaise.
And most of all on my lap.
This was her “pick me up now face” and how didn’t really matter.
She trusted me to a ridiculous degree. I could carry her anywhere 1 handed.
Which is more or less how this happened.
This is the last picture I took of her, sleeping beside me as she always did.
Perhaps most of all I miss waking up to this face every morning.
I iz the ghost of catmas past!
You’re kidding right? Because catmas was months ago.
Yeah, get with the program, dude.
Exactly. There are much scarier things to worry about.
Like thumb-monkeys that think they have a sense of humor.
Now, that’s scary.
Oh, get a grip.
I haz grip on my own face!
You play the fools. Meanwhile, we plot our global conquest.
Thanks for the extra cats goes to Kim, Jonny Matt, Mandy and Neil
This is the second of three photo tributes I have put together for our late and very much lamented Isabelle. The first is here along with the links to other lost friends. I also eulogized her in some detail here.
As long as she got to be close to us she was tolerant of her monkeys’ foibles.
I mean, really tolerant.
She was even willing to put up with other cats and their smooches.
No matter if she was surrounded.
As long as she got to be with her people.
Snuggling was basically her reason for living. Whether we were sleeping.
Or watching a movie.
She always wanted to be with people.
Though her definition of people could get pretty broad.
She was beautiful and I took hundreds of pictures trying to capture that.
I especially tried to get a shot of her perfect white bib.
And of her big blue eyes.
She spent a lot of time staring at us. Sometimes curiously.
But most often with a sleepy sort of affection.
In her later years she took to reaching up and holding onto my ribs.
Speaking of holding things, she loved Laura’s braid.
She wasn’t always dignified. (post surgery for bladder stones)
She had a gentle heart.
And a curious one.
We bought her cat games which she liked to watch though rarely played.
If she couldn’t have a person the sun was all right too.
But both together was best.
We built the screen porch as much to indulge her as anything.
She got indulged a lot. HER chair had a permanent blanket fort.
She was tucked in whenever she wanted.
And she had the run of the house, from piano top…
…to bed, and beyond.
She could be playful in a sleepy sort of way.
She was very rarely grumpy.
Though she hated when we traveled and would try to stop us.
She grew to be good friends with our other main lapcat, Meglet.
It was always fun to catch her in an undignified moment.
She wasn’t very good at hiding. Mostly because she wanted to be found.
I miss her so much.
It is my custom to post a photo tribute to my animal friends and companions when they die. Meglet. Jordan. Cabal. Princess. I had to say goodbye to my beloved Isabelle cat last Tuesday and I will miss her forever. She has been my constant companion for 17 years, and not having her within touching distance is still incredibly alien for me.
I posted a eulogy for her the day after she died. Today I am posting the first of three sets of photos of Isabelle—I simply couldn’t get the set of pictures I wanted to share down below 11o, so I’m breaking it up across several postings. Here is the first set.
The oldest picture I have of her, transferred from actual film.
One of a handful of shot of her and my Norwegian bachelor farmer cats. Taken at our old place in Saint Paul.
Here she is taking a nap amidst the chaos of getting ready to move.
She was always a snuggler. Here with our friend James.
But she wasn’t above tenderizing the spot where she wanted to lie down.
She loved to lie on her back. That’s the Melchior laptop, btw.
She actually really liked other cats. With Spot in my old summer office.
With Jordan when we first got our black beauty.
Snuggled up with Spot the day Jordan was spayed. Thankful the damn kitten is gone.
A year or so later with Jordan while Meglet and Ash were being spayed.
I am bowl. Big, fuzzy bowl.
She’s asleep like that.
A rare shot of our then five cats in one place. Only Ash remains.
Action shot! Meglet leaping over Belle.
She loved the sun. On the screen porch.
On the piano.
Snuggled up on a windowsill.
A trio of cats on the tower I built for them.
She big on “helping.” One of her favorite typing positions.
Here she is “helping” Laura with a puzzle.
Sprawled on my knee while I worked. She was usually close.
Probably her favorite thing in the world was snuggling sleepers in bed.
She was incredibly tolerant of our foibles.
And always mysterious.
But she could be quite undignified.
Part of the moving catpile that followed me wherever I went.
She loved to be mostly under blankets.
Did I mention the thing about the sun?
She was also a lover of video games. Both as observer.
And as participant.
She liked to help put away groceries.
And braid hair.
She found the silliest places to sleep.
She was my little otter cat.
I miss her.
Where is your cat fuds? I are a cat, and I are hungry.
I do not think you are really a cat. Votes?
I vote that this damn monkey picks me up and loves me.*
I do not think that is what was meant by voting.
I vote for heat vents for all.
Your heat vent idea intrigues me, could I subscribe to your newsletter.
You don’t want to listen to a thing she says. She steals my fuds.
Can we get back to where your cat fuds are? I want to protect your fud.
*Thanks to Matt, Mandy, and Neil for borrowed cats.