Cathead

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Well here we are again. No opiate for the masses on this blog.

You may be wondering what that green crap is under my eyes.


I have been crying for 24 hours. My eyes are all puffy and scary looking so I mixed up some cucumber, avacado, and olive oil in the food prosessor and made this little under eye mask. It's not helping.

 God, I feel like Winona Ryder in Dracula.






I can't belive he is gone.

14 years.


I am not sure I even really remember what my life was like 14 years ago. I was poor. I had lots of hair. Work was hell. I was skinny.


Cathead just showed up one day on the deck of my condo on Queen Anne. He was young, not a kitten, but not grown up either. He really worked it with everyone in the building. He would climb up the tree and show up on the decks of old lady’s upstairs and coerce them to let him in. Then he would come back down to my place and beg for food smelling of old lady perfume.



He always used to push out the screen in my bedroom window and escape then bring back mice for me.



When I bought the condo in Greenwood Cathead came along. He flicked pee at Mark from his cat carrier as we drove over.



Cathead and Nora bonded on my old green cough when she crashed there for a while after she moved to Seattle. Nora took his picture and he hissed at her.  This was the only time he ever hissed at anyone. 






Later when Mark and I moved to the house in Mount Baker Cathead would puff up and make these horrible howling noises to scare off that stupid tomcat Horniclua that was hot for Daisy. Hornicula would try to break into the house in the middle of the night and Cathead kept us safe.



I vividly remember when I finally got home after the earthquake. Cathead heard me coming and popped his giant head through the cat door to see if I was OK. I don’t think I have ever been so glad to see someone before.



Cathead was so laid back. He got along great with Gasby. He tried so hard with Daisy even though she was so horrible to him all the time.



When I moved here Cathead was lonely and sad.Thus the need for Bill.





Cathead adopted him immediately. We had 5 good years here -- me, Cathead, and Billy. Billy Boulogne.



After Bill died there was need for company for The Head again. In came the kittens.





Here is a rather hilarious if not pornographic picture of Cathead sleeping with a very young Fred.





The kittens were so in love with him. Everyone was so in love with him, Cathead and his non-fluffy tail.



I’m just remembering what a goof he was when he was stoned on catnip.

And how much he loved to drink water out of the bathtub.

I could make kissy noises or cooing noises and he would come running.  

He loved to lick Lynnette’s hair.

He loved to curl up and sleep in my left armpit. 

I used to wake up in the middle of the night with this silly cat biting my nipples

He would yelp when Mark would stroke his back legs but he loved it.

He also loved when I put a sheet over my head in bed and he would then try and try to find a way to crawl in under the sheet.


When he was in his prime some bitch at the Vet's office said he was fat and called him Fathead. Later some other girl there misunderstood his name and called him Ca-thead.

Often I would speak French to him and say, “Bonjour Ca-thead, ça va?”

I had lots of nicknames for him. Cat Number 1 or Mister or Buddy. Hey Buddy!

I had to hide my broom or he would eat the bristles. Yes, one of his favorite foods, broom bristle.

Cathead absolutely loved to climb onto my shoulders and wrap himself around my neck and just lay there. He did this again just moments before he died.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!  

Goodbye Mister.  I love you Buddy.

Cathead: 1996 - 2010.