Today we said goodbye to Miles The Cat, the furry friend known as Miles Vorcatigan, Fat Miles, Terror Cat, Desperation Jones, Little Buddy, and KITTY!
From the day he rode back from Hudson Falls on my shoulder, he was mine like no other cat had been mine since Butterscotch when I was a child. He was the product of a 6 pound siamese mother cat and, depending on who you asked, a Sneaky Neighbor Cat, Swedish Volleyball Player, or Mountain Lion. He was huge in frame, and he was deeply bonded to me. He meowed like a mofo, and was afraid of his shadow and seemed to be rather agoraphobic, and was incredibly lazy and very very fat. He was also the best nap buddy I could ever have asked for, he purred a very satisfying rumble, and he had the most gorgeous green eyes. He was not smart, and once got trapped in the basement ceiling because we went on vacation and the contractors redoing our bathroom were scary… but his not-smart-ness was rather charming, most of the time.
He loved me, and I loved him. He even, eventually, decided Justin was mostly not trying to kill him, and would acquiesce (with full-tilt airplane ears) to being petted by him. He tolerated the “pink toe, pink toe, black toe, pink toe” game, and the endless songs I’d sing about how “Miles the cat, he is very fat…” He let baby Gwyneth, and then toddler Gwyneth, pull his tail, tug his fur, lick him, pat him, and then pet him. He never ran from the screech of “KITTY!” she let out when she saw him.
He was just sweet.
He will be missed.