Posted by: Lee Rowan | May 1, 2011

Snoot: 1990 (?) – 2011

Miss Snoot, aka Snootie Patootie... 1990-2011

Three and a half pounds of cattitude

Twenty-one years ago, some jerk pulled up on a street in downtown Kalamazoo, opened the door, dropped a tiny cat on the sidewalk, and drove away.   A cat-loving woman named Sharon saw this, rescued the kitten, and delivered her to her best buddy, who had just lost an elderly Siamese.   Ten years later, I married the woman who took Snoot in (and named her for the dark smudge on her nose.)   A couple of years after that, Snoot started having kidney trouble, and the vet warned us that a cat so small — she barely hit 4 pounds, top weight – might not last very long.

Nine years later, down to 2.5 pounds and with only one tooth left, her kidneys finally gave out and she got out of her weary, creaky little body while lying on my lap.  We buried her in the sunshine she loved, and put a white lilac over her. 

I can’t say Snoot was the most lovable cat I ever knew – she was cranky, hissed at every other animal except her mentor, Pinky (a sweet grey Buddha of a cat), and complained about everything in a voice that suggested Siamese in the family tree.  We always suspected Snoot had been raised by some dope-smoking idiot — she was never quite in focus and didn’t relate to people or other animals in an entirely normal way.  But when she was feeling affectionate, she could bang into you with amazing strength, and you could hear her purr across the room. 

As she got older and frailer–and leakier–we wound up building an ensuite for her that consisted of a large dog crate with catbox, cushion, and dining area, a cedar chest with a beach (sunlamp and soft blanket) and a plastic tub connecting the two.  Toward the end, we enclosed this with rails salvaged from a baby crib, because she couldn’t leap down anymore.   The vet said the heat lamp and oil heater beside the crate were what kept her going — she had no body fat at all.  And, she said, for 147 in cat years, she did pretty well up until the last couple of weeks.

As much trouble as it was dealing with all the extra care–and the obstacle course it created in our bedroom–the place seems oddly empty without her

Pleasant catnip dreams, Snootie.


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