since he died, he and his personality have been popping up in unexpected venues. moya and i went to see spike lee (the filmmaker, not the cat) on dec 8 when spike lee (the cat) was dying and high on pain drugs. wanda (the cat) seems to be channeling him -- she sits in the doorway to our bedroom, guarding it, just the way he used to block the doorway, guarding us, keeping wanda from going anywhere. we were watching some movie on tv (or dvd, i forget) last week and one of the characters talked about spike. and i swear that kinsey sticks mentioned him during oy vey in a manger.

he was a big black longhaired supersoft feisty mr personality who would follow me to the grocery store, wait in the parking lot, howl til i came back out and herd me home.

when i lived on an island, he'd 'walk' me to the ferry in the morning and 'walk' me home at night.

in san francisco he spent time in kitty jail with animal care and control because someone thought he was lost, stuffed him in a box, and he bit her when she was stuffing him in a box.

if someone was crying, he'd jump on their lap and nuzzle his head under their chin. when he was a kitten he slept across my neck.

he loved attention and would whup whap whup his tail on the floor to let you know he was done with the attention and you should stop with the attention giving or else you'd be in danger (of his claws swiping fresh gashes in your tender flesh).

he used to stay out all night and come home in the morning smelling like cigars and drugstore cologne with comb marks on his back - i think he was playing poker in some backyard.

he had a young kitten boyfriend named romeo who belonged to my neighbors across the street. (i suggested he join kitty nambla)

when i lived with my sister, we had 3 cats: spike, chester and hannah. spike and chester would fight over hannah -- both trying to groom her at the same time.

he befriended an orphaned baby racoon and slept in a tree with it.

he would wander around the neighborhood and then sit on our front steps and yowl at people who walked by to get them to ring the doorbell so he could get inside. it took us a while to realize he wasn't actually ringing the doorbell by himself.

some mornings when i get to the office i look around for him and miss him (he was living at my office for the last 6 months of his life). sometimes missing him feels rather pathetic, other times it's palpably vulnerably sad, and sometimes i see the crows and pigeons and sparrows and hummingbirds on the deck looking gleeful that their lives are safe again (at least on one deck in hayes valley!).

A piece of string walks into a bar.
The bartender says "we don't serve string here."
The string walks out, works itself into a frenzy and ties itself up.
The string goes back into the bar.
Bartender says "aren't you that piece of string?"
String says, "I'm a frayed knot."

Giggle. The kind of joke that is much better heard than read.

And just the kind of humor that Moya passes around. Sweet gal. Here's to your beautiful self.