Scooter
July 1983 - March 2000
 
 
   
 
 
  Kitty Nights
by Sheila Moraghan

 Each night he is my cat hat, sleeping on my head,
Sprawling across my pillow, his comfy featherbed.
Tiny paws massage my shoulders, kneading with great care,
His purrs become a lullaby, 'til dreams of mice appear.
He enters into slumber land, then fast as fast can be,
The early birds are chirping and he pounces over me
"Get up", he says, it's time to eat,
He jumps onto my head.
"Get up, let's play and run around,
You must get out of bed."
Downstairs we go, it's barely dawn,
I fumble for a light.
It seems like just an hour ago,
He meowed to say goodnight.

 This poem so fits my Scooter - his favorite spot to sleep at bedtime  was on my head or alternately, my butt!
 
 
 

I have a hard time writing about Scooter without getting weepy and emotional.  I think he was  my favoritest kitty ever, with his loving ways and supreme intelligence.  I still miss him terribly and think of him often.

Saturdays are especially difficult sometimes.  One of my favorite TV programs is Cops and I usually watch it every week.  Scooter liked it too... well, he liked the theme song.  We had a routine and no matter where he was or what he was doing, all I had to do was utter the opening "whooh!" and start singing the Bad Boys theme and he would come running to get his head scratched and belly rubbed!  It was too precious.  He was absolutely a people cat, preferring to lay on any part of one's anatomy - head, lap, shoulder, rear, wherever - just to be close.  He was happiest when being held, petted, or cuddled.  He was a lover too; he gave sweet little sandpapery, kitty kisses in exchange for some head rubbing and petting, and sometimes, just because...

My grandchildren grew up with Scooter - he had always been in their lives to love from the day they were born.  They love me and all that, but shame on me if I went to visit and didn't bring Scooter along!  He was as much a part of their lives as he was mine and it broke my heart to have to tell them he was gone. 

He too, developed cancer.  After doing everything we could for him, we helped him leave our world rather than have him endure any kind of suffering.  I held him on my lap as he went to the bridge at the age of 16 years, 8 months.  He's buried next to Kat, in our backyard.

It's been two and a half years now since he's been gone, and I've had three more kitties since then.  There'll never be another like Scooter, though - he was the best and I'll never forget him.   He left his tiny little paw prints all over my heart.
 
 
 
   
       
   
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Never Forget Never Again
9-11-01

  

Updated 7-22-05
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