Creating memorials in loving memory of our pets...

 

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Ahmah & Mommy will always love you Harley Quinn! We miss you Squeakaboo. <3 :.(..

  
Memorial created 08-24-2009 by
Nora Salisbury
Harley Quinn
April 0 2008 - July 26 2009

There's the Orcapuss I fell in love with.

Last summer, when one of our Calico cats passed at only 2 years old, we worried about her little sister, who had just turned one.  We decided to go to the pound & find her a playmate, our oldest had no patience for a rowdy kitten.  But Doreen sent me to the pound alone due to illness, and as it turned out I had to go twice.  The first day I went I was shown a cage of over-demonstrative black kittens, climbing the cage door and reaching for me as it opened.  But in the back sat a tiny ball of black & white, with big yellow eyes gazing at me.  I was instantly smitten.  I held her for quite a while, talking to her and to the girl who worked there.  She checked the information on my pick of the litter and found that she had just been brought in and for some reason they make the cats stay there a few days before being released.  I would have to peel the kitten who had burrowed against my neck away & put her back in the cage.  I was already crying, I wanted to take her home now.  The look on her face as I tried to explain it to her while I held her up and walked to the cage was one of sadness and confusion ... "but, I thought you liked me."  I wept and told her over & over that I promised to come back two days later, first thing in the morning on Thursday.  I don't think she believed me then. 

 

Squeakaboo in her fave snuggle spot~my shoulder.

But come Thursday morning, she learned what keeping a promise was all about, and the look on her face this time was pure joy, relief and security as she melted into the crook of my neck again.  I would have to let her go one more time, as the pound insisted upon sending her to a vet of their choosing to be fixed rather than the vet who had overseen the health of nearly every cat we ever owned, who would have waited to spay until 3 months.  She was still so tiny, I didn't like the idea but was given no choice.  I had promised, I was not going to leave her behind.  This time she seemed to believe me when I told her I'd pick her up later that afternoon.

 

The "Partners in Climb."

As I got in line to pay, still chatting with the girl worker, a commotion arose in the cage of kittens placed in the lobby (that's dirty pool).  A Calico, even tinier than the newest member of our fur kids, climbed the cage and grabbed the sleeve of my shirt.  I was stunned.  She had nearly identical markings to the young Calico at home, Gracie O'Malley the Pirate Queen (so named for her pirate patch) ... a spot on her pink nose where Gracie had none, but otherwise, wow.  The girl, much like the kitten, saw my head turn into a big fat cartoon sucker, and got the Pirate Princess out of the cage, extolling the virtues of two being adopted at once, to keep each other company.  

I had to go home to get more money and when I explained the situation to Doreen, she asked why I didn't just take the little bookend for Gracie, after all that had been the point.  I stiffened indignantly and said "when she gets here, YOU look in that sweet little face and tell her you don't want her.  I promised her I was taking her.  I will not leave her there again."  She just sighed and gave me the ATM card.  She knows when she's licked.

 

Inseperable from day one-Harley & Trixie

When they came home from the vet, it looked as if Harley would be my cat and the Calico would be Doreen's, because she earned her name the moment the carrier opened.  She laid eyes on Doreen and got a look on her face that said "oh, boy!  You're mine!" and bounded towards my friend and proceeded to shove her entire muzzle into Doreen's mouth, purring & drooling.  Doreen decided she was like ... well, a little French whore, and dubbed her Trixie LaRue.  Harley Quinn was a natural.  And I had been right, Doreen looked at her and agreed she couldn't have left her either. Not only did she have the most perfect little Orcapuss, we had never seen a cat with all white paws have all black paw & toe pads.  Well, the third toe on the right rear foot was half pink, but the rest were black.  She had been quiet during the time at the pound and the vet, but here at home she finally relaxed, and we heard the most precious squeak of a meow come out of her.  Not a rusty hinge squeak, a sweet, clear little sound that earned her another nickname to go with Orcapuss; Squeakaboo.  We figured that would change when she got older.  But it never did.  At the beginning she was a tiny sickly sneezer, who had to have a humidifier to clear her sinuses, we worried she wouldn't thrive.  But she grew like Lambert the Sheepish Lion, in leaps & bounds, 'til she was a huge burly girly that everyone mistook for a boy.  And also like Lambert (until the end of the film), she never found her roar.  She was very sweet, mellow and clingy.  She knew I was a promise keeper & she looked to me for comfort and guidance.

 

Showing off those unique markings at naptime.

Now I find myself wishing I had kept her from going outside until she was at least 2. Or at least kept her in when I saw she'd pulled loose a toe claw. But she loved to chase bugs, and she and her partner in crime Trixie were climbing the walls to get out. I went outside with them the first few times, noticing that when cars drove down the sidestreet, even though they weren't anywhere near the street, they both tore off for the house, going so fast their hind ends were sliding sideways as they turned to go in the front door. I really thought they would stay out of the street.

But one morning, I called and called her to no avail. Our newest next-door neighbor heard me & asked if I was looking for a black & white cat. When I said yes he looked sad & said "I'm afraid something's happened to her," and motioned for me to follow him. He took me to a big bush at the side of their house, and behind it was a lifeless form wrapped in a towel. I didn't know why he only uncovered the body, though that was proof enough, I'd never seen another cat with a blotch on her belly shaped like a gun range target silhouette. I collapsed on my knees and instincively went to scoop her into my arms, until I moved aside the towel over her face, and saw the eyeball hanging on her cheek. Our neighbors had to pretty much scrape my hysterical form up off the sidewalk. The lady of the house got me water and her hubby offered to help me bury my baby after both comforted me down to mere despair. I had him lay her on her other side so I could see the eye that was still in place. The only thing that was positive about it was that she appeared to have been struck unconscious immediately. There was no trauma to the body, only the one side of her head, mostly just the jaw compressed and the eye that freaked me out so. I wish I hadn't been so chicken, I wanted to hold her one last time. I hugged her on the ground and stroked her paws, touching the perfect toe pads in disbelief that I would never get to again, that I would never hear the squeak again. I kicked myself for dragging my feet on making video of her, I'd give anything to hear that squeak again.

 

"But mom, the store-bought bed doesn't have a nifty plastic canopy!"

Goodbye my baby Squeakaboo, Orcapuss, Harley Har Har, Gnarly Harley, Batcat, Harley Barley, Harles Barkless. I miss you so much and I'm so sorry I didn't push to keep you in. There's a nice lady who looks a lot like me up where you are now, she'll take good care of you until I get to the cloud city. I'll always love you, and I wish I'd never scolded you for climbing on the fridge, or for the light swat to my cheek when your toe hurt as I was trying to see if the whole claw had pulled out. You looked so hurt when I scolded you, now I wallow in guilt. My gut hurts every day, it's been weeks but I can't get over this, it always hurts to lose a fur baby but this feels like I birthed her from my own body. I can't get my head straight. All the wind has been knocked out of my sails and the sails have been torn to Hell.

 

Harley's favorite basket-I would have bet she wouldn't fit.

Trixie LaRue, who was practically joined at the hip with Harley, seems to think that sissie will be home someday. She patrols the yard, obviously looking for her. Then she comes in and naps on the end of the bed, facing the bathroom window. When another cat jumps up in the window to come in, her head jerks up and her little cookie face lights up momentarily with expectant hope, but when she sees it's Gracie or Stormy, her head drops down on her paws again, her eyes close & she lets out a small sigh.

Gracie however, definitely knows what's going on. A few days ago, Doreen & I were both at our desktop PCs in the living room, and we had decided to put Harley's favorite basket down on the floor for the girls to examine, see what they would do. When Gracie checked it out, sniffing at the little tufts of fur in the corners that I don't have the heart to get rid of, she looked thoughtful a moment, then climbed up in this box lid she likes to sleep in and nosed through a pile of little things we've been meaning to find places for or do other things with, and with her paw pulls out a small swatch of black lace. She puts it in her mouth, jumps down, goes over to Harley's basket and pulls the lace out of her mouth and lays it down in the basket, even arranging it a bit before pulling her paw out and then looks at us both. We of course both need to pick up our jaws off the floor at this point. Swear to God it's true. How she figured out there's a correlation between black lace & mourning, I don't know. Maybe saw a lady in a veil on TV crying like we've been?

 

"Eat your heart out, Beckham."

~\o when Harley Quinn the Orcapuss gets here, everybody's gonna jump for joy ~\o

~\o come all without-come all within
you'll not see nothin' like Miss Harley Quinn~\o

 
"So? I've seen you half in the bag too."
"Why are you always pointing that camera at me?"
 
We even had the same taste in TV shows.
The belly was shaved for the spaying, but it grew back. Great shot of the toes.
 

Tree liddle kitties on an itty-bitty bed ...

Hard to tell the Calicos apart, huh? Trixie LaRue is on the left and Gracie O'Malley is on the right. Harley, as usual, was very aware of my presence.

 
"Lookit me, I'm dancin'!"
"No, my basket STAYS in front of the TV."
 
"Very funny, mom ... now take that thing off of there before someone thinks I put it there!"
 

Not a bad likeness, if I do say so myself.

I enjoy an online game called Howrse, where you raise & care for virtual horses. I bought one at auction whose name was already Harley, she is a black & white paint. There is a special thing in the game that comes out only once in a while, that allows you to design your own coat, and when that comes around again, here is the coat I've designed for my Harley Quinn howrse.

 

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