Friday, March 12, 2010


Boo and Rocky were born on 3/17/84 (they would be extremely elderly cats now, had they lived) and came to live with me when they were very tiny - only 3 weeks old - since their mother had died (we think she got cabin fever, escaped from the house where she lived and ran out into the street where she met her end under the wheels of a semi).

In any event, they became my boon companions from the age of 3 weeks on, were bottle-fed by me and cherished by me. They were my first brother-cats and were radically different in personality and size. Boo was large, outwardly dignified (inside he was Jerry Lewis, pratfalls and all), intelligent and deeply devoted to me. Rocky was dainty, slim and essentially gormless in every respect. Brains weren't Rocky's long suit. Being lovable was!

During Memorial Day weekend of 1984, my beloved father died in Cleveland, Ohio. Since he had been promising for several years to come visit me in California, I determined that he would keep his promise and thus purchased a crypt at Forest Lawn Memorial Gardens in Glendale, California in the Hall of Freedom Mausoleum. A friend in Cleveland arranged for my father's remains to be cremated and sent to Forest Lawn directly. They were almost late for my father's funeral! Which was just like my Dad!

Following the funeral, we had a large gathering at our house in Sylmar. Easily 100 people eventually showed up (most of whom we actually knew). Linda and I cooked massive amounts of food and everyone brought their own liquid refreshment. We propped a large painting of my father against the wall of the covered patio and everyone would drink a toast to him from time to time. When they weren't falling in the swimming pool. Very 80s behavior but somehow I think Gilbert would have approved.

What we weren't monitoring during the time that all these people were milling around the house was the behavior of the two felines in residence - until I noticed that both Boo and, to a lesser extent, Rocky were walking in a very odd fashion. And while our living room was enormous, we didn't have enough seating for as many people who were there. So people were putting their drinks on the floor. Boo was ambling around, taking teensy sips of ONLY the gin and tonic WITH lime. Rocky was quaffing only beer! Only I would have picky drinkers on my hands. By the time their activities came to my attention, they were both pretty unsteady on their feet. Linda and I agreed that the alcohol in the drinks would kill any germs - thus protecting the cats - and we scooped up two inebriated kitties and took them to another part of the house where they could be corraled safely away from temptation and further boozing.

The next morning, I was faced with the prospect of two hungover kitties! But for the rest of their lives and despite the price that they paid afterward, these two babies of mine were both faithful to their quaff of choice! Boo lived to be 19 and Rocky lived to be 15 and they are both still missed. I'm sure they're with my Dad now, telling him all about their adventures.

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