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FISH OBITUARIES:an anti-bloggers's blog

SASHA: TUMBLE DRY KITTY / CAT OBIT #1

Poor Poor Sasha


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The First in a Series of Cat Obits by Secret Guest Blogger, Kate C (who is looking for a scintillating pen name) concerning Inner Turmoil, Procrastination, Feline Under-Representation in the Blogosphere, Barn Yard Hanky-Panky, the Omnipresence of Death, and the Perils of Napping in Laundry.

Hi Robin,
We met during your second class on blogging (my first) at Grub Street and I understand that you are conflicted about blogging; I am here to support you in any way I can. I too have reservations about this whole thing so I thought I’d take you up on your kind invitation be a guest on your blog page so I can continue to engage with my inner turmoil a little longer; but even more importantly, so I can put off learning the actual mechanics of setting up my own blog for at least another week. But once I create one I will be totally asking you to add a link to my new blog page to this post.

So anyway, after reading your blog and ruminating about it, what I have concluded is that you need more posts about cats. And cat videos. THAT is really what people want. So I don’t have a cat video but I have cats. Have. Had. Had many. So many that at one point I ran out of names. There was Fat Cat, Skinny Cat. White Cat. Whoa, White Cat was a mean one. Like, scary mean.

But I digress.

I started bringing them home early on. My neighbor Kelly’s grandparents had a farm close by and their cat had kittens. I convinced my parents to let me bring one home but I had to keep it outdoors. Before you know it I had eleven. I don’t know how it happened (well I know how but I’m unclear on who was doing what with whom to make it to that number). We had a shed in the back where they slept. The thing about cats--especially outdoor cats--is that tragic things sometimes happen to them. White Cat picked up feline leukemia. Little Midnight fell asleep on top of a tire on our car; no one saw her there. Fat Cat got hit by a car, his furry body spit ever so cruelly onto a soot laden pile of crusty, week old snow.

But the most tragic was Sasha. And it wasn’t even the outdoors that did it.

A cuddly ball of fur
Gray and white, so beautiful
The clothes in the dryer
Must have been warm
Like you

RIP


If you would like to contribute a fish (or reptile) obituary to this blog, please post a comment below with the basics.
Robin McLean also blogs at Mike's Maze.
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