A black QR compatible travel bug with picture of a wonderful cat and purple cat toy.
In memory of Stooby, April 2004 - May 28, 2015
On May 28, 2015, my handsome little guy passed on. Stooby was a very special cat. I didn't choose him. He chose me. He wandered into our back yard in the summer of 2004. A feral mother cat had given birth to a litter of three kittens and we were feeding them outside when Stooby showed up, looking half starved. He ate like he would never see another meal, and we took him into the fold. He was named Boots, because of his black tuxedo and pristine white paws. One day, I spelled Boots backwards and came up with Stoob. The name stuck, and there were many, many nicknames to follow: Stooby Pants, Stooby-Doo, Stoobarelli, Stoobenheimer, Stu, Bootsy, Funkmaster Stoob...the list goes on and on.
It took Stooby a long time to come around to being picked up and held. It was probably five years before I first got the chance to hold him, and it wasn't for very long. That first winter, we set up the garage for the cats to live in. There was a litter box, food, water, a cat tree and of course, heat. A cat door was installed to allow them to come and go as they pleased. I spent many hours in the garage each winter, creating art projects, working with the cats, singing to them. Slowly, the cats came around, but the only one who let me pet him or pick him up was Stooby. He began creeping in closer and closer, finally zeroing in on his favorite spot, which was under my chair. Stooby would have made a great goalie. One of his favorite games was positioning himself on the garage floor while I fired Temptations treats at him. He expertly stopped each one with his paws before gobbling it up with gusto. He could entertain himself with anything: milk rings, a stray bolt on the garage floor, scraps of paper, and his favorite toy...a small pillow stuffed with catnip that had a picture of a snowman on it.
Stooby began walking me to my car in the morning as I left for work, and he was always there waiting for me when I got home. I vividly remember coming home one night and shutting off the car, only to hear a thump as he jumped onto the hood and tapping the windshield with his paw, welcoming me home and telling me to hurry up so we could play with the laser pointer.
One summer, I went for a walk, and halfway around the block I noticed Stooby had been following me, so we started walking more often. He developed a pretty cute routine where he would try to follow me undetected by running from tree to tree, hiding when he thought I might see him, following me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
It wasn't until two years ago that Stooby finally decided to explore the inside of my house. I'd brought him inside a few times to see Mom and Dad, get a few scratches on the head, and then take him outside again, but he began sneaking in when I opened the door. The big screen TV both scared and fascinated him. He would run past it at first in attempt to avoid the people inside the big noisy box. Sometimes he would watch it, transfixed. He was especially fond of the fluffy white cat in the Fancy Feast commercial. I think he had a crush on her. Stooby was always so well behaved in our home. He never got into anything, and he had his favorite spots to lay (my bed, my dad's bed which is in the living room). He quickly settled into a routine on his visits. Run into the house, jump into "Grandpa's" lap to deliver kisses (furry bumps on the nose), wait not so patiently while Grandpa gave him treats (Stooby snacks), trying to help open the bag with his nose. After treats, he would visit Mama for cuddles and tummy rubs. When my friend Kristi was visiting, Stooby would always nuzzle in next to her legs and wait patiently to be acknowledged with attention and cuddles. He quickly learned the sound of a can opener when Uncle Dave would give him tuna as a special treat.
They say that many cats hate tummy rubs, but not Stooby. He loved them and couldn't get enough. His purr was enormous! His whole little body would rumble. It was the best sound in the world, especially when he purred while eating treats. I'll miss his rumblings and crunchings. Most of all, I'll miss his bumps, his furry little head crashing into my nose with as much love as could fit into his tiny little body, leaving me with a smile on my face and a mouth full of cat hair.
Stooby is survived by his "Mama" and "Grandpa", his "Crazy Uncle" Dave, his special cat friends Sneaky and Earl, and "Auntie" Kristi, and he will be missed greatly by all of us. Most people choose their pets, but Stooby's greatest gift was choosing us. He was my baby, my therapist, my workout partner, a reason to get out of bed on my hardest days, and the best little buddy I could ever ask for. I am honored to have known and loved him.
Goodbye little friend. I'll miss you and promise to remember you forever. I'll strive to always be and remember what you always were: playful, loyal, loving. Thank you for being such an important part of my life and leaving your paw prints on my heart.