Muff and Bruce

Well, who knew?  After all the love tortures Muff endured from Bruce, who knew Bruce would be the one to usher him to Kitty Heaven?  Bruce used to love to put underwear on Muff's head, socks on his back, and hold him up near the ceiling fan, while it was running.  And that's just a few of the tortures he's conjured up in the last sixteen years.  Is it a surprise to anyone that occasionally Muff would "fin" him with one or both of his back claws or poke a hole in Bruce's shirt?  Well, hell no. 

Last night, after I'd called to pull the official trigger on Muff, Bruce went to get the cat carrier and pay for him.  When he got there, Muff hadn't "gotten the call yet" so Bruce stayed, and loved on Muff while they put him out.  He said Muff was talking and shedding up a storm--a clear sign that he's not having a great time--until the shot to sedate him.  Muff--not Bruce.  But Bruce probably would have loved one, too.  Muff wandered around, exploring the exam room, and then jumped up in Bruce's lap, to chew his tail.  This is a long standing habit and family joke since I had told Bruce eons ago, Muff would outgrow the tail chewing.  Sixteen years later and he's still a chewin'.  And then Muff got loopy.  And his legs got all gimpy.  So Bruce laid him down on the counter, and our Vet sent him off with the last shot.  Thirty seconds later he was gone.  Poof.  Sixteen years of love and hilarity gone in a whisper.

This morning, Bruce told me all about it, as last night, I put myself to bed when he left to go get the cat carrier and to pay our vet.  While not a total basket case, I was really close and just needed to shut 'er down.  As Bruce is telling me all this, this morning, he rolls his wrist over to show me Muff's parting gift--one last tiny "fin" mark. How appropriate.  Both of us just hooted out laughing.  That is so Muff.