Farewell to Mimi

Given that it’s the last day of 2010, it’s probably a good moment to say good-bye to Mimi.

We got Mimi in March 2009 from the Denver Dumb Friends League.  She was a blue-cream tabby, small and light (esp. when we got her), about 2 years old.  She was the softest cat you ever met, esp. for a short-hair.

She was affectionate, after getting over her skittishness.

She loved to jump up on the sink and drink from an open tap.  We eventually got a circulating water dish, primarily for her, but she still loved to be up on the sink, drinking or begging pets.

She enjoyed leaning up against windows (or mirrors) and trying to scratch her way through to her reflection.

For such a petite cat, she had a, loud, husky, Lauren Bacall meow.

During much of her stay with us, she preferred to sleep nearby, on some piece of furniture or another.  She was a creature of habit, choosing a sleeping place for several weeks at a time.  Eventually she came to sleep next to us.  No turning around three times sort of setting — she’d find her spot next to you, then collapse against you. It was a good thing that, even with some decent fattening up, she remained light.

She liked being inside of things, little hidey-holes. She’d try to get into cabinets and then curl up and go to sleep.

She never got into kitty treats (esp. competing with her older brother), but she enjoyed batting at cat toys.  She and Indy had a vigorous (and successful) rodent/bird hunting competition this past year.

She tended to gorge herself on dry food, then throw up a little bit later. In fact, the last time we saw her, Thanksgiving Night, she had just thrown up on the comforter on our bed.  We shooed her off, pulled off the comforter cover, and went to sleep.  And we never saw her again.

We have cat doors to (and from) the outside, and our cats are indoor/outdoor.  We sometimes go through phases of “going into lockdown” at night, for the protection of the cats or to ward off raccoons.  We had gotten out of the habit over the summer, and so Mimi exited the house, and our lives.

Indoor/outdoor cats run an extra risk.  We know that, but we also know that the cats like the outside, and we really don’t want to be the bad guys in that way, or guarding against their slipping out.  The cost for that freedom is when we have a cat not return.

Mimi was chipped, and she had a collar with our name and phone, so if she’d gotten lost, even if the collar went missing, when found the finders (or any agency she was turned over to) should have been able to track her back to us.  I checked out all the shelters electronically, did a Craigs List ad and put up neighborhood posters and did some driving around calling, but no joy.

Still, no carcass was recovered from anywhere, so, like an MIA family, we can simply just hope for the best, that she’ll someday show back up at our door, or that she somewhere found some loving family who adopted her, and she’s enjoying the New Year drinking from the sink, chasing mice and voles, and plopping down next to her humans.

Thanks for your time with us, Mimi. Hope we were able to give you as much as you gave us.