"I named him Mikey because he was so tiny"

With winds gusting to 46 mph and sheets of rain throughout most of the day at Chelsea-by-the-Sea, Baby knows the right thing to do.

Mikey, cousin to Baby (above) and Tiny (below), has gone to meet his maker this sad day. We try to find comfort in knowing he meets up once again with his former cohort, Bram -- the best dog (greyhound) on the eastern seaboard ever was -- and Mummy herself, the best mother ever was. Says Susie:

They have been waiting for this sweet soul.

Mike was an orange tabby with extra thick undercoat of fur.  It tended to clump up wicked bad during humid summer months, and some of his cutest days -- and probably most comfortable for him -- were when his coat had just been shaven, with only a lion ruff around his adorable face and plume at the tip of his tail. Always the third man out amongst Susie's corps of alpha cats, Arthur and Daisy.  A calming presence amongst warring factions. God bless, little one.

Unaware of the news that her cousin Mike, whom she never met, has died this day, Tiny tensely awaits news of the next meal.

We had been about to post about the Humane Society's campaign [via Pajamas Media star Tammy Bruce's brand new blog] to save animal companions from the next natural disaster when we received the news of Mike's passing. He was fourteen years old, getting on towards venerable. Nephew Chris had found the little fellow on the roadside, an abandoned, flea-ridden orphan way back when.  Susie recalls:

I named him Mike, because he was so tiny, he was microscopic. I always thought of him as a Wednesday's Child . . . full of woe.

'Reminds us of Sweet Pea, the Mother of All Chelsea Cats -- Tiny and Baby's mom -- a feral that let us feed her and had her babies in the closet in our attic but never could let herself be petted.  Some early psychic wounds, whether human or feline, never heal. We can only do what we can to ease their journey, even as they bring joy and sorrow to ours:

I stayed with him, and hugged him, and petted him, until the little body started to turn cold. It doesn't take long. I knew it was time to go . . . That sweet soul, who hung on for as long as he could, but longed for release from the earthly coil.

God bless, precious orange kitty.

Update:  Mikey is remembered among all things bright and beautiful at the Friday Ark at Modulator.

Comments

[goomp]

Love is beautiful where ever one finds it.

[bebere]

I had my heart broken by an orange cat, my first cat ever. Bashi, whom I'd had for six years, died on Christmas Eve 2000. I was living in Eastie, just across the bridge from you. It took leaving the old house to stop seeing him turn corners. To this day, I still dream about him.

May little Mikey (as orange kitties are little guys no matter how big they grow) be happy in whatever his cat heaven may be - humming at birds in trees, chasing beams of light, dreaming on his human loves' laps.

[Teresa]

I'm so sorry about little Mikey. {{{HUGS}}} to all of you.

[Sissy Willis]

Thank you, darling girls -- and Goomp, first among equals -- for your good thoughts about a pussycat.

[pb]

My sincerest condolences. We know our pets better and longer than we know most people. Godspeed to the little guy, until you find him again on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

Love you, Blogmother.

[srp]

My heaven will have cats and dogs. As of today, I have three of each waiting.

[Ana]

Reading about your kitty brought tears to my eyes. I know how hard it is to lose a beloved animal, whether it's an official pet or a stray that you take care of. It seems a good part of my life revolves around my cat and all the strays I feed. I recently lost several of them and it's been very hard to deal with. My heart goes out to you. I'm sure Mikey will never be forgotten by those whose lives he touched.