editor's note: i couldn't resist cause of sentimental shit plus the fact i'm still gobsmacked when i think how long we've been away from US, so was gonna add the next to the post right below this but forget about that. anyway, this is Peter, the rescue kitty who flew from Brooklyn to Bonn and then to Bristol after living with me since 1991.
Petey loved to sit at my desk, hogging the chair and above pic he was doing just that but in Germany, right before an enforced three months' separation where he waited out the last half of the way stringent Brit Quarantine rules in Villa-Maunz, a lovely Katzenpension rather than crash at the nearest official Brit Quarantined Pets Centre. when we flew in to check it out, i was appalled; it totally didn't pass our inspection — the kitties looked unhappy and scared — always a bad sign — (we assumed) cause the cathouse was stupidly placed right up against the way too noisey dog-run. uh... the foregoing moan applies to the Centre in Bath (your Centre's mileage may vary and for the good of the kitties, i sure hope it does).
how much did
our friends all knew i'd just left Chris and returned to live in DE with Peter. i'd been back home only a few hours when Dave called from London to ask how i were doing. it was really sweet for him to ring but was hard to hear ourselves speaking. when he finally asked what the racket was, i could only tell him the deal as i saw it: when Peter'd made damn sure i was home alone, he'd leapt up on Chris' desk, crouched on the scanner (his fave spot to watch The Boy as he worked) and commenced howling his ass off. for hours and hours. eventually Dave went 'Is that a baby crying? Are you watching anyone's kids?' and i was all 'NO — that's Pete since he realised The Boy's not playing "hide" and he doesn't like it...' *sigh* Petey cried all night and i couldn't comfort him so i crashed with earplugs but a few hours later he woke me up, snuggling into bed and purring his head off. on The Boy's side, of course (due to kitty-fur, this was like Verboten).
i got here for good in july, managed to keep my big mouth shut for the next three months and not moan about missing Peter. then in september 04 (YAY, finally!), it was time to fly back to Bonn and bring him home to England. *sigh* by that time he was like 14 years old and i truly believe the stress of us leaving him alone for three months plus the flight from Frankfurt to Heathrow — though only an hour or so — affected him badly cause after six months (when he'd just had a check-up after which the vet told me how healthy he was) he developed cancer of the jaw and died a few weeks later.
i took these next about a week before he left us; it's Petey in his fave morning place (whether in Brooklyn, Bonn or Bristol) worshipping Ra as the sun came up. he'd never missed a morning staring at the sun since 1991.
now i go cry cause i still really miss Petey. *smirk* nah, who am i kidding? i'm gonna get wasted instead (cause i still really miss Petey). um, yum... 'sbeen way too long since i crushed up Valiums to sprinkle over Vodka and what better time to do that shit but early Sunday morning? Cheers, Petey! *smirk*
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