My cat Sage who got sick and passed away back in 2000 was whip smart, sweet and affectionate and I miss him dreadfully even today. He thought he was people often wanting to sit at a spare seat the kitchen table, not to steal food but just to be a part of the family.
Chris (whose 20 now!) and Sage as a kitten
When he was a kitten he would sleep curled up on my neck, when he grew to his full size and well, fatness he was pushed off me and decided that he would sleep under the covers WITH me often on his back paws tucked over the sheets. He knew exactly what buttons to push to annoy me and showed off his good timing while banging cabinet doors or swishing a picture that hung on the wall in the bathroom in perfect syncopated rhythm. He would tear apart a kitchen sponge like it was an enemy invader and would open my bedroom drawers and bring me balled up socks as presents, not stopping until I thanked him and told him was a good boy for bringing me a “mouse”. He was unique and he was well loved.
Lame lettering on this pic, my ex did it. I can’t find the original and most of my pictures are prints this was one of my first digital camera photos (in 97ish?)
I got Nutmeg in 1996 and he fell in instant love with Sage who sounded so feminine in his meow and instantly became his pseudo-mommy.
The palled around spending practically every waking and sleeping moment together. The kids could poke at them both hug them whatever, neither of them would scratch or bite. Nutter was Sage’s shadow and was devastated when his “Mommy” had to be put down. He cried for days right along with me wandering the house looking for him, it was so sad.
Sage loved ice cream. I am not a huge fan of ice cream but on the odd occasion I felt like a bowl I would think to myself “Yanno ice cream would sound good right about now”. Sage’s head would pop up from a sound sleep and he would start meowing and follow me to the kitchen. I mean I made dozens of trips back and forth into the kitchen and/or fridge with nary a slit eyed response from Sage but the minute my brain said ice cream he picked up the thought. I shit you not. It would freak me out.
Nutmeg seems to have this same psychic ability but ice cream while appealing to him is not his particular poison. Tuna is. I can do the same thing walk in and out of the kitchen put things away in the fridge, clean the counter but the minute I think ok time for Tuna I will turn around and he is there staring at me with his soulful eyes. He is silent, I don’t even hear him coming but he is there. He can be in a sound sleep in the other room, doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ve pulled out the can opener or started to open the tin, that is amateur stuff. No he reads my mind. Honest. Ask Tom.
Of course I give in. I slip him some tuna on the kitchen floor and he leaves behind a clean spot and a few nose prints while looking for that last possible morsel that may have escaped him. I can’t say no. How could anyone to this face.