Memoirs of Elsa Part 2

I have been writing down some memories of my kitty Elsa, who passed away a few weeks ago.  Naturally, it’s better to remember the happy times rather than the sad ones, so here are some more random memories of little miss Elsa.  You can find part 1 here.

A year or so ago, thanks to Kitten Academy on Youtube, we decided to get Elsa many of the fun toys that the kittens on their livestream got.  She got crinkle balls, springs, a tunnel, and even this round plastic thing with a ball in it that she could roll around.  The most difficult thing to get for her, however, was a cat tower.  The first one we brought home had to be assembled, but it quickly turned out to be as impossible as that weird bookcase we tried and failed to put together from Target.  What little we did manage to cobble together was far too wobbly, so, with the memory of that bookcase still fresh in our minds, we packed that cat tower up and returned it.

The second cat tower was fully assembled and stuck out the trunk of our car as we drove it home.  Once we got it inside the house, however, we quickly learned that it was really meant for cats of kitten proportions, not fully grown babies like Elsa.  Even so, she tried ever so hard to use her new cat tower, as if she worried that she would hurt our feelings if she didn’t.  She attempted to climb up it despite there being scant room to do so and tried to squeeze into the small openings, looking very awkward as she did so.  Eventually, we decided to return this one, as well.  Upon our third and final trip to the pet store for such purposes, we ended up just getting her a two-foot high cat “tower” (dubbed “cat hut”), with one large tunnel and a flat top.  She seemed to like this one just fine and would look out the window from the top, whereas the tunnel was used for a little game where I would throw a mouse or some other such toy inside, and she would jump in.  Eventually, she had even been trained to jump through the tunnel.  Whenever the mood suited her, at least.

Elsa had many nicknames, as all our cats do.  One of them was Detective McMeow.  I, on the other hand, was her bumbling sidekick, Kibbles.

Getting anything done with Elsa around proved quite difficult.  Oftentimes, I would be sitting at the computer, working on various projects, and she would come over, plop her fanny down, and stare at me.  She would continue to do so until I gave her some attention.  Sometimes this would involve throwing a toy (usually her crinkly ball) to one side of her tunnel (a different tunnel from the one attached to ”cat hut”) so that she could run through it.  When she got especially excited, she would get some of her energy out by scratching on her cat scratcher.

Then I would attempt to sit back down to return to work, only for her to come back a few minutes later.  If I continued to not give her the attention she desired, she would proceed to climb on top of the fridge, sometimes even meowing in distress until I gave in and went looking for her.  One of the best ways to get her down was to hide against the side of the fridge.  This would cause her to peek over the side to look for me.  After this, asking her to jump down to the counter, followed by the floor, was usually obeyed.  Usually.  Of course, there were plenty of times when she would refuse to come down entirely….

She didn’t like when I did video game recording.  This really bothered her, as my focus was directed elsewhere for long periods of time.  She really enjoyed attention, and after long weekends where she got to spend extra time with Mother Duck and me, she was usually at her neediest.  Of course, we were always happy to oblige, and she became a very spoiled thing indeed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s