This mongrel cat of dubious parentage… He loved to eat things he shouldn’t, starting with plastic shopping bags, then onto butter, and ice cream, and cookies, and cake. A few houseplants here and there to satisfy his mouth from time to time. He would find ways to climb onto counters, tables, and anything for a forbidden, tasty treat.
Amy named him Stripey when she was about seven years old. In an accidental litter, he was the first of the kittens to start showing some stripes.
He was born in Aloha, Ore., then made the ferry trip to Petersburg, Alaska when we all moved up. Vivace, our Bengal was his constant companion from the time they were kittens together.
Shelley was his favorite person. When we first brought him home, we had an older cat, a Siamese named Tora. In order to try to get the two used to each other, Stripey was given a home in Shelley’s room. From that time on, she became “his person.”
No huge wonder that at age five his obesity caught up with him, getting him sent on Alaska Airlines to Juneau Veterinary Hospital for emergency treatment. His long-term prognosis at this time was already questionable.
His defective heart, whether born that way or caused by his obesity, threw out occasional clots, resulting in thromboembolism. Cats that suffer this condition don’t typically have a very long future, if they survive at all. But he managed to survive almost three years after the first episode.
He loved laps. Complementing his love of food was his love of inactivity. Naps on laps: his favorite activity.
Oh, he would engage cat toys from time to time if he felt like it. He had a habit of yawning once or twice in preparation for play with a toy.
He never did learn to properly cover up his business in the litter box. (Bad parenting, I imagine…) He often leapt out of the box, scattering litter all over the floor.
Yes, he had annoying habits, he was messy, he cost us a lot of vet payments, and resulted in quite a bit of lost sleep and anxiety these past couple of months. But we loved him anyway. He was a fighter. Until this very last time he wouldn’t give up. He fought to live; much longer than any of the professionals thought he would.
We will miss your adorable, pretty blue eyes; the luxurious and silky coat; the hefty warmth; the plaintive, quiet meows; the intensely loud purrs; and the nightly ritual of sleeping on someone’s legs and sometime their neck.
It was so wonderful to have you around for eight years and nine months.