This is my Moe-Moe.
She has been in our lives for about 13 years. She is somewhere between 14 and 15 years old.
When I worked at the pet store, she was a stray who took up with us. She was pregnant.
She was a petite cat. Small and naturally thin. She looked like she had swallowed a watermelon.
"Cat" I would tell her, "You have moe belly than any cat I've ever seen."
She became known as Moe Belly.
|Her belly left after her babies were born.|
She kept living at the pet store for a year after I moved on. But when the pet store closed she came to live with us.
She didn't stay with us long before she discovered my in-laws across the street. She fell in love with my father in law and decided she was HIS cat.
Cats are funny that way.
But that was only across the street, so I could still see my cat any time I wanted.
I'd walk up and say, "Hey Moe-Moe" and shed start meowing away. We'd have whole human/kitty conversations. She was a very vocal cat.
She was vocal, but wasn't a super friendly cat. If you couldn't read her moods you could just as likely be bitten or scratched if you tried to love her. After we lost my father in law I was the only one who could/would pick her up.
She would purr, but only tolerate a little bit of loving.
She lived indoors for a long time, then she became an indoor/outdoor cat. Then she was an outdoor cat, because she would NOT use a litter box. She would poop in the floor, or the bed, or the sofa. But never the litter box.
But she was a home-body. She used to wander when she was younger, but the past few years she stayed around the house, under the bushes or in her kitty house under the carport.
Just this morning, as we left to take Parker to school, she came stretching out of her box, asking for her breakfast.
After all, she was 15 years old. A 15 year old cat isn't going to get into much mischief.
Unfortunately, after 13 years living in the same spot, some mischief came to my girl.
I noticed a strange dog in the neighborhood. One of my dogs woofed at him through the fence when he was outside.
It was a large dog. White with black spots and marks.
It ran away when it saw me.
Meanwhile, an hour or so later, when my hsuband got home from work he says, "There are two cats dead in the street. I'm going to go take pictures."
We've had trouble with stray dogs in the past and have been trying to get the city to do something about it. He wanted documentation.
Just a few minutes later he came back in, very very VERY angry.
"I think one of the cats is Moe, I need to you to come look at her."
There are a lot of stray cats in our neighborhood too. And lots of them are black, like my Moe Belly. But this svelt little body curled in the street....I knew it was my Moe. I didn't want it to be.
(Warning, the rest of this is kind of graphic)
Covered in slobber, she had clearly been attacked by a dog. As has the other dead cat.
I slid my hand up under her belly, because Moe had a knot of bone on her under side that was unusual. That knot was there. It was my Moe.
And I had her blood on my hands.
I sat down in the street and cried, while my husband called the police and yelled and ranted and raved.
After a while the person who lived in the house I was sitting in front of came out to see why this crazy white woman was sitting in the front of her house, crying.
"A dog killed my cat." I told her.
"Mine. A dog killed MY cat."
Then Robert showed up with a box, and a shovel.
I wasn't going to let my poor baby be shoveled up. It wasn't right.
I reached my hand under her...into her guts. And I lifted her into the box with as much dignity as she had left.
She had been gutted by whatever beast caught her. Gutted, and left in the street while it ran off to kill another animal.
So today my cat was killed, and I had my hands in the parts of her that should have been inside of her.
She's buried now, and nobody official cares. And we told our little boy that Moe was dead, and he cried. And the dog that killed her is likely still running the streets, looking for other pets to murder.