Aries RB - a Tribute

in tears
Hugs,
--
Polonca & Soncek

"Exocat" wrote in message
...
Dearest Aries

Today is the 10th anniversary of your death, and I want to mark the
occasion with a tribute to the best companion any human could ever
have. snip

In article , Mary Pelis
wrote:


Best,

Mary & Mookie (sending very loud purrs of understanding)



Hi Mary, how are you? its been a long time.
Suz
Macmoosette
Thank Heavens There's Only One
=^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^=


I've learned to not sweat the petty things, and not pet the sweaty things.

Exocat wrote:
Dearest Aries

SNIP moving tribute
(PS to NG: sorry for the bandwidth but I needed to share my memories
with those I felt would best understand the poignancy of the day. I
must mop up now before the furniture all floats away)

Don't be sorry that was a wonderfull tribute. All cats are special, some are
extra special.
--
Adrian
A House Is Not A Home, Without A Cat.

A beautiful tribute for a very special friend. I cried lots over this.
Many thanks for sharing this special kitty's story with us.
Christine
"Exocat" wrote in message
...
Dearest Aries

Today is the 10th anniversary of your death, and I want to mark the
occasion with a tribute to the best companion any human could ever
have. You are never forgotten, so I'd like to share a few of those
special memories that I hold so dear.

I remember your bravery as a tiny kitten, leaving the safety your
basket, Samantha your mum & your sisters and striding fearlessly up to
me to "check me out" when I came down to call on my human neighbour,
your stepmum. How quickly you explored your new territory when I
brought you upstairs at twelve weeks old, and how soon you came to
terms with my wife and 5-year-old daughter. Not forgetting how
tolerant you were of her mauling, and stuffing you down under her
bedclothes to cuddle.

You were so brave, too, when you sprained all 4 wrists/ankles after
falling 35 feet from the windowsill. It was good of you to try & catch
those naughty pigeons nesting under the eaves, just because you knew I
hated them as they damaged the building, though I'd have forgiven you
if you hadn't tried so hard. And weren't you good at TED's - no cries,
no cringing during the examination. And no complaining during the
enforced bedrest, either.

And how wonderful you were to me when I came home after 2 weeks away
in hospital: I'll never forget how you spotted me from afar in the
passenger seat of my friend's car as he opened it to help me out and
raced over to vault past him into my lap, covering me with kisses anf
blessing me with the deepest & loudest of purrs. And how well you kept
me
company in the boring indoors during my convalescence.

And what a cuddly chap (when you felt like it)! You could spend up to
twelve hours at a time under the bedclothes nestling against my calf.
I always wondered why not my warmer tummy: I suppose it's because a
human lower leg & foot is around how cat-mom size seems to a
part-grown kitten. You liked to check out all the human visitors, too,
although the honour of settling in a lap was always reserved for me.
Even my playing loud music wouldn't send you away.

Years later, when I needed to go abroad to a seminar & couldn't find a
cat-sitter and had to put you in the cattery for 5 days, I heard you
howling for me
as I opened the car door, even though you couldn't see round to the
front of the house. I'm told that you recognised the engine note &
started wailing as I was drawing up. You wouldn't leave my side to go
outdoors for days after that!

And how considerate of you when indoors at night to learn to pee in
the washbasin so there was no need for a litter tray. And how clever
to always tell me what you'd done, too, so I could rinse up after you.

Such a wonderful car passenger too. On that first long trip to/from
Manchester, you forced your way out of your basket - there was never a
cage that could hold you - to visit each human passenger in turn, then
came onto my lap as I was driving without clawing me, put your front
paws on the steering wheel & peered through the windscreen for all the
world as though you were steering! Then settled down & curled up in my
lap to sleep.

And in those final years deep in the country, what a fine hunter you
were, and how generous with your gifts of assorted wildlife.

Then more bravery as your digestive system closed down: I'd never have
noticed from your behaviour that there was anything wrong, until the
boniness started to show through. But even as a shadow of your former
self you never complained, even when you couldn't keep down the
liquidised salmon I blended for you in your own special food
processor.

My fondest memory of all, though, is how, when your time came, you
sought me out to be with me as the diarrhoea & vomiting hit and the
spasms of your gut made you cry out at last. I'm sure you were telling
me that it was time for me to give you last gift of all, that of a
swift passing. Which I did, without waiting for TED, who on that
Saturday night could have been an hour away.

I hope you liked your resting place, under a beech sapling up on the
hill above the lake I built, round which you'd accompany me on daily
walks, letting me get well ahead so you could sprint past me to the
exit gate, looking back with a "what kept you?" expression as you beat
me to it!

I know that when my RB time comes you'll spot me from afar and be the
very first of my companions to reach me. I had another special boy
after you who's at RB now too, and there are three lovely lads with me
today, nearly adding up in total to your character, but you'll always
be my number one.

I've lit an anniversary candle for you today, and hope that other
understanding souls will do so too for us both (there are no people
more able to appreciate our special bond than on this lovely
newsgroup), and that they'll take a few moments to visit your photos
(in the "owners past & present album at the URL below) and appreciate
your grace & elegance.

I'm honoured to have been your human carer for 14 years & 8 months
All my love forever

Exocat

-
Aries & the feline family viewable at:
http://community.webshots.com/user/exocat

(PS to NG: sorry for the bandwidth but I needed to share my memories
with those I felt would best understand the poignancy of the day. I
must mop up now before the furniture all floats away)

On Wed, 17 Dec 2003 17:01:25 -0000, "Exocat"
wrote:

Dearest Aries

Today is the 10th anniversary of your death, and I want to mark the
occasion with a tribute to the best companion any human could ever
have. You are never forgotten, so I'd like to share a few of those
special memories that I hold so dear.

I remember your bravery as a tiny kitten, leaving the safety your
basket, Samantha your mum & your sisters and striding fearlessly up
to
me to "check me out" when I came down to call on my human neighbour,
your stepmum. How quickly you explored your new territory when I
brought you upstairs at twelve weeks old, and how soon you came to
terms with my wife and 5-year-old daughter. Not forgetting how
tolerant you were of her mauling, and stuffing you down under her
bedclothes to cuddle.

You were so brave, too, when you sprained all 4 wrists/ankles after
falling 35 feet from the windowsill. It was good of you to try &
catch
those naughty pigeons nesting under the eaves, just because you knew
I
hated them as they damaged the building, though I'd have forgiven
you
if you hadn't tried so hard. And weren't you good at TED's - no
cries,
no cringing during the examination. And no complaining during the
enforced bedrest, either.

And how wonderful you were to me when I came home after 2 weeks away
in hospital: I'll never forget how you spotted me from afar in the
passenger seat of my friend's car as he opened it to help me out and
raced over to vault past him into my lap, covering me with kisses
anf
blessing me with the deepest & loudest of purrs. And how well you
kept
me
company in the boring indoors during my convalescence.

And what a cuddly chap (when you felt like it)! You could spend up
to
twelve hours at a time under the bedclothes nestling against my
calf.
I always wondered why not my warmer tummy: I suppose it's because a
human lower leg & foot is around how cat-mom size seems to a
part-grown kitten. You liked to check out all the human visitors,
too,
although the honour of settling in a lap was always reserved for me.
Even my playing loud music wouldn't send you away.

Years later, when I needed to go abroad to a seminar & couldn't find
a
cat-sitter and had to put you in the cattery for 5 days, I heard you
howling for me
as I opened the car door, even though you couldn't see round to the
front of the house. I'm told that you recognised the engine note &
started wailing as I was drawing up. You wouldn't leave my side to
go
outdoors for days after that!

And how considerate of you when indoors at night to learn to pee in
the washbasin so there was no need for a litter tray. And how clever
to always tell me what you'd done, too, so I could rinse up after
you.

Such a wonderful car passenger too. On that first long trip to/from
Manchester, you forced your way out of your basket - there was never
a
cage that could hold you - to visit each human passenger in turn,
then
came onto my lap as I was driving without clawing me, put your front
paws on the steering wheel & peered through the windscreen for all
the
world as though you were steering! Then settled down & curled up in
my
lap to sleep.

And in those final years deep in the country, what a fine hunter you
were, and how generous with your gifts of assorted wildlife.

Then more bravery as your digestive system closed down: I'd never
have
noticed from your behaviour that there was anything wrong, until the
boniness started to show through. But even as a shadow of your
former
self you never complained, even when you couldn't keep down the
liquidised salmon I blended for you in your own special food
processor.

My fondest memory of all, though, is how, when your time came, you
sought me out to be with me as the diarrhoea & vomiting hit and the
spasms of your gut made you cry out at last. I'm sure you were
telling
me that it was time for me to give you last gift of all, that of a
swift passing. Which I did, without waiting for TED, who on that
Saturday night could have been an hour away.

I hope you liked your resting place, under a beech sapling up on the
hill above the lake I built, round which you'd accompany me on daily
walks, letting me get well ahead so you could sprint past me to the
exit gate, looking back with a "what kept you?" expression as you
beat
me to it!

I know that when my RB time comes you'll spot me from afar and be
the
very first of my companions to reach me. I had another special boy
after you who's at RB now too, and there are three lovely lads with
me
today, nearly adding up in total to your character, but you'll
always
be my number one.

I've lit an anniversary candle for you today, and hope that other
understanding souls will do so too for us both (there are no people
more able to appreciate our special bond than on this lovely
newsgroup), and that they'll take a few moments to visit your photos
(in the "owners past & present album at the URL below) and
appreciate
your grace & elegance.

I'm honoured to have been your human carer for 14 years & 8 months
All my love forever

Exocat

-
Aries & the feline family viewable at:
http://community.webshots.com/user/exocat

(PS to NG: sorry for the bandwidth but I needed to share my memories
with those I felt would best understand the poignancy of the day. I
must mop up now before the furniture all floats away)


Just read your tale about aries and visited your site. i am in tears
what wonderful words and a beautiful cat.
take care
tracy.

On Wed, 17 Dec 2003 17:01:25 -0000, "Exocat"
wrote:

Dearest Aries

Today is the 10th anniversary of your death, and I want to mark the
occasion with a tribute to the best companion any human could ever
have. You are never forgotten, so I'd like to share a few of those
special memories that I hold so dear.

I remember your bravery as a tiny kitten, leaving the safety your
basket, Samantha your mum & your sisters and striding fearlessly up
to
me to "check me out" when I came down to call on my human neighbour,
your stepmum. How quickly you explored your new territory when I
brought you upstairs at twelve weeks old, and how soon you came to
terms with my wife and 5-year-old daughter. Not forgetting how
tolerant you were of her mauling, and stuffing you down under her
bedclothes to cuddle.

You were so brave, too, when you sprained all 4 wrists/ankles after
falling 35 feet from the windowsill. It was good of you to try &
catch
those naughty pigeons nesting under the eaves, just because you knew
I
hated them as they damaged the building, though I'd have forgiven
you
if you hadn't tried so hard. And weren't you good at TED's - no
cries,
no cringing during the examination. And no complaining during the
enforced bedrest, either.

And how wonderful you were to me when I came home after 2 weeks away
in hospital: I'll never forget how you spotted me from afar in the
passenger seat of my friend's car as he opened it to help me out and
raced over to vault past him into my lap, covering me with kisses
anf
blessing me with the deepest & loudest of purrs. And how well you
kept
me
company in the boring indoors during my convalescence.

And what a cuddly chap (when you felt like it)! You could spend up
to
twelve hours at a time under the bedclothes nestling against my
calf.
I always wondered why not my warmer tummy: I suppose it's because a
human lower leg & foot is around how cat-mom size seems to a
part-grown kitten. You liked to check out all the human visitors,
too,
although the honour of settling in a lap was always reserved for me.
Even my playing loud music wouldn't send you away.

Years later, when I needed to go abroad to a seminar & couldn't find
a
cat-sitter and had to put you in the cattery for 5 days, I heard you
howling for me
as I opened the car door, even though you couldn't see round to the
front of the house. I'm told that you recognised the engine note &
started wailing as I was drawing up. You wouldn't leave my side to
go
outdoors for days after that!

And how considerate of you when indoors at night to learn to pee in
the washbasin so there was no need for a litter tray. And how clever
to always tell me what you'd done, too, so I could rinse up after
you.

Such a wonderful car passenger too. On that first long trip to/from
Manchester, you forced your way out of your basket - there was never
a
cage that could hold you - to visit each human passenger in turn,
then
came onto my lap as I was driving without clawing me, put your front
paws on the steering wheel & peered through the windscreen for all
the
world as though you were steering! Then settled down & curled up in
my
lap to sleep.

And in those final years deep in the country, what a fine hunter you
were, and how generous with your gifts of assorted wildlife.

Then more bravery as your digestive system closed down: I'd never
have
noticed from your behaviour that there was anything wrong, until the
boniness started to show through. But even as a shadow of your
former
self you never complained, even when you couldn't keep down the
liquidised salmon I blended for you in your own special food
processor.

My fondest memory of all, though, is how, when your time came, you
sought me out to be with me as the diarrhoea & vomiting hit and the
spasms of your gut made you cry out at last. I'm sure you were
telling
me that it was time for me to give you last gift of all, that of a
swift passing. Which I did, without waiting for TED, who on that
Saturday night could have been an hour away.

I hope you liked your resting place, under a beech sapling up on the
hill above the lake I built, round which you'd accompany me on daily
walks, letting me get well ahead so you could sprint past me to the
exit gate, looking back with a "what kept you?" expression as you
beat
me to it!

I know that when my RB time comes you'll spot me from afar and be
the
very first of my companions to reach me. I had another special boy
after you who's at RB now too, and there are three lovely lads with
me
today, nearly adding up in total to your character, but you'll
always
be my number one.

I've lit an anniversary candle for you today, and hope that other
understanding souls will do so too for us both (there are no people
more able to appreciate our special bond than on this lovely
newsgroup), and that they'll take a few moments to visit your photos
(in the "owners past & present album at the URL below) and
appreciate
your grace & elegance.

I'm honoured to have been your human carer for 14 years & 8 months
All my love forever

Exocat

-
Aries & the feline family viewable at:
http://community.webshots.com/user/exocat

(PS to NG: sorry for the bandwidth but I needed to share my memories
with those I felt would best understand the poignancy of the day. I
must mop up now before the furniture all floats away)


Just read your tale about aries and visited your site. i am in tears
what wonderful words and a beautiful cat.
take care
tracy.

ps. just wondering what does TED stand for?

LO Tracy (and all the other kind souls who replied to this thread)

Thanks for your kind words. There were many more anecdotes I could
have included hid I remembered and dared. I forgot to mention, for
instance, that his mother was a gorgeous pedigree Siamese, Samantha,
sent to Wimbledon from Hampstead to avoid the attentions of assorted
Tomcats but who fell pregnant immediately upon arrival. Luckily for me
:^)
He was indeed 1 in a million.

I read that you've now been advised that TED is the Group shorthand
for The Evil Doctor, aka the Vet. There are numerous others in use
too, & if you'd care to ask for a list I'm sure it'd be provided right
away.

Best
Exocat

--
Feline family viewable at:
http://community.webshots.com/user/exocat



"tracy" wrote
Just read your tale about aries and visited your site. i am in tears
what wonderful words and a beautiful cat.
take care
tracy.
ps. just wondering what does TED stand for?

On Wed, 14 Jan 2004 20:04:18 -0000, "Exocat"
wrote:

LO Tracy (and all the other kind souls who replied to this thread)

Thanks for your kind words. There were many more anecdotes I could
have included hid I remembered and dared. I forgot to mention, for
instance, that his mother was a gorgeous pedigree Siamese, Samantha,
sent to Wimbledon from Hampstead to avoid the attentions of assorted
Tomcats but who fell pregnant immediately upon arrival. Luckily for
me
:^)
He was indeed 1 in a million.

I read that you've now been advised that TED is the Group shorthand
for The Evil Doctor, aka the Vet. There are numerous others in use
too, & if you'd care to ask for a list I'm sure it'd be provided
right
away.

Best
Exocat
Thanks for relying. how many fur babies do you have now. i have three,
tabby boots and tilly. tilly is currently acting drunk due to coming
out of her anaesthetic from being spayed. i feel really sorry for her.
Bad teds. where in the uk r u? i live in the uk too.

Lots of purrs and best wishes for Tilly to feel well again really soon,
--
Polonca & Soncek from Slovenia

"tracy" wrote in message
...
snip tilly is currently acting drunk due to coming
out of her anaesthetic from being spayed. i feel really sorry for her.
Bad teds. where in the uk r u? i live in the uk too.

On Wed, 14 Jan 2004 23:01:04 +0100, "polonca12000"
wrote:

Lots of purrs and best wishes for Tilly to feel well again really
soon,


Thanks. She is a lot better today. eating well, and using litter tray.
She is normally quite naughty at night attacking my feet but slept
right through last night. At around 7.30 she came up to my face while
i was asleep and started licking my nose and trying to suck my
earlobe, it was so sweet, as if she was trying to say she forgives me
for taking her to ted. Now I have just got to try and stop her jumping
about. HOW!!!