I love Howard. Such a fine name. So... did Howard choose a different family to live with? They do that sometimes. It is catly. Or has Howard gone on to that warm lap in the sky? We had a cat once that disappeared and we assumed the worst. However, a year later he walked back into the house as if he'd never left. No idea where he'd spent those many months. He stayed with us seven more years. Thanks for a sweet poem and the memories it evoked.
Glad it brought happy memories. We do need our cats, it seems. Howard decided he liked hanging out with the raccoons because the people living in that house would set food out on the deck, I think for the dog, and the raccoons and Howard would have a party. He was a fairly big cat. We lived in rural places, Boulder Creek and Truckee, during his years with us and he loved exploring the green belt around the house in Truckee. As soon as we landed in Truckee, he and our other tom, Lucky, took off. The queens took possession of the house immediately. It took both cats over a week to return. Lucky came back, looking traumatized by the wild and cowered in the closet for a week. Howard came trotting back, "mowffing" as he did. Once inside, he dropped a half-dead critter on the floor. He was so proud of himself. So, he was all prepared to survive his later wanderings.
That poem is a lovely tribute to Howard. Isn't it funny, I've never known a cat not to have a mind of its own and do its own thing. Your Howard was like that, bless his heart.
Sue, I lost my 14-year-old orange tabby, Tobias (we called him Toby because everyone should have at least one pet named 'Toby' in their lifetime), last week. He's buried in our woods next to his brother, Antonio, who was a handsome black and white tuxedo, and a boxer named Bruiser. They were all buddies. I'm sorry about Howard, and your poem is beautiful.
Oh Ellen, your pain is far more raw than mine right now. Howard was two or three cats ago in the grand parade. Your Toby is barely cold in his grave. I hope you don't have coyotes, but if Toby's got his brother and Bruiser still interred, then I guess he'll be safe. Hugs to you.
I love Howard. Such a fine name. So... did Howard choose a different family to live with? They do that sometimes. It is catly. Or has Howard gone on to that warm lap in the sky? We had a cat once that disappeared and we assumed the worst. However, a year later he walked back into the house as if he'd never left. No idea where he'd spent those many months. He stayed with us seven more years. Thanks for a sweet poem and the memories it evoked.
Glad it brought happy memories. We do need our cats, it seems. Howard decided he liked hanging out with the raccoons because the people living in that house would set food out on the deck, I think for the dog, and the raccoons and Howard would have a party. He was a fairly big cat. We lived in rural places, Boulder Creek and Truckee, during his years with us and he loved exploring the green belt around the house in Truckee. As soon as we landed in Truckee, he and our other tom, Lucky, took off. The queens took possession of the house immediately. It took both cats over a week to return. Lucky came back, looking traumatized by the wild and cowered in the closet for a week. Howard came trotting back, "mowffing" as he did. Once inside, he dropped a half-dead critter on the floor. He was so proud of himself. So, he was all prepared to survive his later wanderings.
Great story, Sue. Thanks
Absolutely love this, Sue. Wonderful creatues. Glas you got your kiss goodbye.
So am I.
So touching. Thanks for sharing this loving tribute to (and from) Howard!
That poem is a lovely tribute to Howard. Isn't it funny, I've never known a cat not to have a mind of its own and do its own thing. Your Howard was like that, bless his heart.
Thank you for sharing him, Sue!
Toms are especially interesting in their relationships with people. The queens simply own the world and don't give a damn.
That’s been my experience, too, Sue. 😁🤣😂😊
Sue, I lost my 14-year-old orange tabby, Tobias (we called him Toby because everyone should have at least one pet named 'Toby' in their lifetime), last week. He's buried in our woods next to his brother, Antonio, who was a handsome black and white tuxedo, and a boxer named Bruiser. They were all buddies. I'm sorry about Howard, and your poem is beautiful.
Oh Ellen, your pain is far more raw than mine right now. Howard was two or three cats ago in the grand parade. Your Toby is barely cold in his grave. I hope you don't have coyotes, but if Toby's got his brother and Bruiser still interred, then I guess he'll be safe. Hugs to you.