New Dude and I have suffered a great loss. On Monday, December 21, 2015 our kitty Moomba was hit and killed by a car.
This post isn't about her death though, this is about her life. She was a beautiful cat both inside and out.
She stumbled into our lives one cold November night. New Dude and I were just chilling on the couch watching TV when all of a sudden we saw in our big picture window a little kitten. She was outside the glass, staring at out, mouthing meows as we stared at her.
She paced back and forth a few times tried to rub against a gnome that was in our window. She shortly pushed over and knocked it to the ground. New Dude went over to the door to re-set the gnome and this little cat just came right into the house. She came over to me, sat in my lap and purred like I've never heard cat purr before.
New Dude and I started to call it her purr box.We'd ask sometimes if it was on. She could fall asleep purring.
Well, her being so friendly, and potty trained (we found a box and food and litter for her) she quickly call our house home. We put up signs around the neighborhood for a found cat. She was so friendly and sweet we were afraid we had taken her from some little kid. We had put up signs for about a week and no one called. She had gotten out about day 3 and hadn't returned. Even though we hadn't confirmed if we were going to keep her, New Dude and I were both very sad. He even tried to call in a skunk he though was her one night trying to get her back. However, a guy down the road called and said he had this cat we think we had been hanging out with. It was her! We quickly took down the sings, brought her to get her first shots and caller her Moomba.
She had officially ours and we Stockholm syndrome her for about a month before we would let her out for short bits of time. This gradually grew from an hour into all day. We always called her in at night, even if it was 12 am, we'd be on our porch calling for Moomba. I think our neighbors thought we were crazy.
New Dude is trying to learn the harmonica and she soon came home to the first part of "Hearts of Gold." It sometimes took about 3 or 4 times of playing it but she came home too it. My mom did not believe it was true until she saw it with her own eyes.
She was such a pain in my butt when we first got her. She knew that she could come bother me at night and I'd get up and let her out. It could be 3 or 4 in the morning and I'd have a cat kneading my head or paws on my face at first followed by flexed claws.
Moomba also learned the ways to really get us out of bed. First, she'd jump on the book case or the night stand and slowly paw things off and onto the floor. If that didn't work, then she'd go over to the a cork board she could reach and destroy it. It worked, we jumped out of bed every time.
Moomba, pretty much every night that the door was open to the bedroom would end up in bed with us. Sometimes between your legs, or for me on top of my head(my cat hat) or laying on your stomach, back, butt, well pretty much anyplace she really felt like it now that I write it down. You could move her when she sleepy. Moomba would be sleeping in her cat crows nest, we'd pick her up and bring her to bed.
I did it a lot for New Dude. I loved him for always having the same reaction. He'd say, "I've always wanted one of these," grab her and then cuddle up with her and continue to sleep. It was so very, very cute to see a 6'2" man cuddling with a 8lb kitten.
Moomba, though was very cute and sweet, also was a killer. A list of items on her known kill list: mice, birds, bugs, voles, squirrel, and possibly a small baby bunny.
She climb trees like a crazy person, ran up and down the street, climbed on the porch rail, and even ended up on the shelf above the sink once or twice. We did sort of train her. She knew what one of the Nerf Guns sounded like when it was turned on. Whatever she was doing or where she knew she should not be, she quickly ceased and desisted.
Moomba was my first cat. She was New Dude and I's first animal together. She brought us hours of joy, cuddles and for me, rashes. She would wander around the house, yard, and pretty much wherever she wanted and sometimes it involved poison ivy/poison oak. I have sensitive skin and just her rubbing on me would break me out sometimes. I mostly got it on my wrists. New Dude doesn't have reactions to these plants so he did not suffer.
I only felt bad for Moomba a few times when we had to make urgent vet appointments. The first one was when we had had her for about a month and the poor thing still had very runny poo. I was getting concerned so I took her to the vet. They gave her some more worming medicine and I'd say about a week later she was pooping normally. Well, at least from what we could tell. She went outside way more often than inside. Which, this was great because our puppy Teach soon developed a taste for her poo.
The second urgent vent appointment was when she came home and had all these little dots on her face and around her eyes. I had taken her flea and tick collar off because I hated the way it smelled and felt. What this did though was allow many seed ticks to attach to her. The poor thing had about 8 or so removed at the vet and my brother-in-law had taken at least 2 or 3 off earlier that day.
Even the ticks knew how sweet she was. I pulled more huge ticks off her than any other pets. I think the whole black hair and wandering all over the place didn't help her much.
We did not play with cat nip with her, it made her CRAZY. Her eyes would get as big as saucers and would run around the house like a crazy person. If you were in the way she'd randomly attach you too. Claws out, eyes huge, teeth sharp, ears pinned back.
Moomba was so good with little kids. I think a lot of this was due to how much New Dude messed with her. He'd push her, pull her, wind her up and the force her to calm down. He'd carry her around in in his shirt or robe. He would pour her back on the floor and call it liquid cat.
We were not the best pet owners. I woke up once or twice to her her crying because she was shut in the basement or in another room. She wasn't hurt, just not where she was suppose to be. Moomba was a ninja and could get to places without being heard. But at the same time, was the loudest creature I ever have heard walk on the floor. She grew to be about 11 lbs but she sounded like 30 lbs. Sometimes I wonder out loud how she killed anything with how hard she walked.
We couldn't keep colars on her even though we tried.She always seemed to loose them.
Moomba was fearless. One time New Dude was fixing something on our roof and she climbed the ladder to join him. All of a sudden he was hammering in singles and bamb, cat was visiting. Which of course ended his productivity for a little bit.
One night when the ladder was still against the all to get on the roof, we were calling her in the night. We could hear her meowing in response, but couldn't figure out where she was. Then we looked up. She was on the roof and came over to the door but couldn't get down. I grabbed New Dude a chair to stand on and he got her down.
Looking at the above pictures reminds me of the time she caught her eye wiskers on fire. New Due and I were chilling watching TV. We all of a sudden smelled burnt hair. I had a candle on the counter and we went to investigate what the smell was. There wasn't anything around the candle on fire or that was hair so we shook it off and went on with our day. A about an hour later the cat comes to get some attention and we notice that her wiskers had shrank. She had caught them on fire, he wasn't hurt but they were half the size they used to be all curly cued at the top. It took about 4 months for them to return to normal.
We were painting the sun room last year. Moomba kind of wanted to help, but at the same time didn't. One time she got into some paint and put paw prints from the sun room all the way under the ticket table, down the hall and under and around the bed in the back bedroom. Not very cool
Another time we went away for the day and when we got back home she had kind of attacked and killed a roll of blue shop towels. For the most part, she did really well and didn't completely destroy things in the house. I guess paper towels an cork boards.
She did cause us to have to put all the food away and keep the sink clean. She would eat out of dishes or play in the sink. Water didn't bother her. We tried to get her out of the sink one day and sprayed her with the little hose, it didn't do anything to change her pace mood. It just meant now I had water to clean up off the floor.
This ia picture of how she slept a lot, on my neck/under my chin. It was not too bad to sleep that way actually, very nice and warm. However, she always need to push her paws into my throat notch when getting up or setteling down. It was very uncomfortable
Though it had not happened before she passed, it was only a matter of time until I bet she would have been sleeping on top of him. The closest they got was sleeping on the love seat at the same time. Teach on the cushions an her sleeping on the back.
Moomba was a special cat. She brought love, purrs, cuts, and cuddles to everyone she met. Even non-cat loving people thought this cat was cool.
Though she is not with us anymore she has left her mark on our souls for the rest of our lives. A blog post isn't long enough to tell someone's life story. But it can be used as a short memento.
Thank you Moomba for knocking over that garden gnome one cold night.
If you have any stories about Moomba I haven't shared please leave a comment below. As always, thanks for reading.
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