The Official Online Pussypie Shrine!

Here's a picture of the Official Offline Pussypie Shrine. As many of you know, Pussypie was the name my friend Annie gave my cat when she was cat-sitting for me one time, and it kind of stuck, as quasi-profane names often do.  So this poorly-designed page of pictures and stories is dedicated to his memory. If you have a story or memory about Pussypie you'd like to share, please feel free to email me and I'll post it. By the way, this site is best viewed with the terrible, sappy, sentimental song of your choice playing in the background. I recommend "More Than Words" by Extreme, "That's What Friends Are For" by Dionne Warwick, or "Save The Best For Last" by Vanessa Williams...

Here's our little Precious Pants (another Annie nickname for him) keeping the world safe for democracy in a humiliating costume she brought over one day.

He really, really, really hated that costume. Especially the hat.

Annie laughing and blowing her nose at Pussypie's misfortune. In any case, Annie sure did like Pussypie, so she submitted the following story to me:

"HOW A LITTLE PART OF ME DIED RIGHT ALONG WITH HIM"

By Annie Lee

Some called him “Kitty”… or “Foodbag”…but from the moment I met him, I knew he would forever be “Pussypie” to me.  That little bastard could soften the hardest of hearts, melt the iciest of demeanors.  A world without Pussypie feels to me like a world without sun; without warmth. I decided that according to the number of months that the sweet ball of precious fur graced Ryan’s life, he was sort of like 10% my cat.  I base this on the 7ish weeks total that he lived at my house while Ryan was traveling.  During that time, he and I formed a lifelong friendship.  I will never be the same for having known him. One night during the summer of 2005, I was napping prior to a hot date with my then-new boyfriend, when Pussypie decided to curl up on my chest.  Purring aggressively, and consumed with love, Pussypie began kneading the skin on my stomach, the way cats are known to do.  It was kind of uncomfortable, but he was drooling a little and his eyes were closed.  He looked so happy.  So I lay there.  With the lamest, sweetest cat ever.  And it was kind of nice after awhile… and THEN!  Pussypie, in stretching his little arm up north of my stomach, got his ferocious 2-inch claw STUCK in my BOOB!  And he couldn’t figure out what was going on, and I was freaking out, and before long, I was bleeding and he was yowling. I think I blacked out.  I barely remember the rest of that experience.  But I had blood all over the shirt I had planned to wear out to impress this boy.  Oh, that Pussypie.  What I wouldn’t give to have him here?!

Another time, he vomited on my carpet.  I tried to tell him not to, but he’s a CAT.  So it was all in vain.  Stupid little charmer.  If he didn’t eat his food so fast, he wouldn’t have to puke it up all over the place.  There is still a small stain, a testament to his great life.

Best of all, there was one time when Ryan and I decided to dress Pussypie up like a little police officer.  I had purchased a costume for my cat (Mr. Snuggles, who was a jerk in the end, and good riddance to his carpet-ruining snuggliness!), and thought it would probably fit Pussypie.  So we put it on him.  He hated it.  So much so, that he wouldn’t even stand up in it!  He just kind of sighed and fell over onto the side of his body.  When we took off the little hat, and his ears were free (we left the uniform part on), he tried to walk but again: fell over sort of apathetically.  Then he just got really confused.  Then angry.  I think those were the most prominent stages of his behavior.  Love, apathy, confusion, sudden anger.  God bless his sweet orange body!

Here's another one of the little guy. There's also a few pictures of him in the picture section under the "Home Front" link. They display his magnificent belly well, too.