Thursday, November 15, 2018



Remy was the first cat I owned that was mine. He has also been the only cat I ever paid for and actually actively tried to get. Every other cat that I have had has come across my path as a stray or just being born in my presence.

Remy was a tabby and he was a cute little chubbers. He hated being picked up and loved whipped cream out of the a container. In fact, the moment he heard the carbonation of a wBBhipped cream canister work its magic, he would run and you would hear him run from afar to come over and beg for food.

Wait, you are probably wondering - what the fuck, this is the fourth cat you're writing about in less than 4 weeks. What gives? I don't fucking know. It has been a really shitty time to be a cat that I have taken care of or owned. Though, in the instance of Remy, I had not seen him in person in a good number of years. Me and the first girlfriend I lived with got him as a means to get me a pet. We already had another cat from before me named Goldberg and well, Remy was adopted from Florida when I lived there. He lived in Georgia with her but I got constant updates about my little remy rat long after the relationship was over.

He traveled far. First starting in Florida, and I think I got pretty upset that he didn't give a fuck about me as a kitten but instead was all about being clingy with his buddy Goldberg. They were constantly together through it all. Then the two of them moved across country in a very very scary plane ride to live in California. Remy made friends with some of the other cats that recently passed away. Fred and Indiana loved him. Though Remy was deathly afraid of Helena and would not get near her.

Eventually he then moved to Georgia where he spent out his days. He was diagnosed with cancer and was getting steroid injections to fight it. But  I got the call yesterday that upon the recent doctor visit, he was just going to get worse and worse and so the option to put him down was taken. While it has been a long time since I saw him in person, I still am going to miss the little guy not existing.

He was one of those cats that would "make biscuits", in that he was a constant kneading fiend. If he was feeling good, he'd just start making that dough on whatever he was touching. He also had strange noises. I swear he tried talking to a lady bug once and it was completely different infliction noises. In his later years he was pretty lazy and while I don't blame any cat for getting it, he was a bit of a tubs.

He was named after Gambit and I am pretty sure that's why we named the other stray cat Rogue, because Rogue would constantly just go and snuggle with both Remy and Goldberg.

Well, I have no idea what sort of sense of humor the gods have, but come on now, 4 cats that I had a huge part of being in their life die within a month. Can a guy get a little bit of a break here and there? This is pretty much the opposite of fair. 

R.I.P. Remy. You survived Hurricanes, earthquakes and a long time in a Georgia filled with republican leaders. I'd say you had one hell of a life.

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