Baloo (May 1990 - April 25, 2008, adopted February 23, 1991)
In Loving Memory
Baloo picked me out of the humans parading before her at the Wantagh Animal Shelter on February 23, 1991. She harassed
me through the bars of her cage until I finally relented and adopted her. I didn't want a black cat; I didn't want an adult cat; yet
here I was, taking home this teenage black cat with the huge green eyes.
She settled into our family life and my father fell in love with her. She loved to sit on his lap while he watched TV. Her
favorite place in our house in Floral Park was sleeping on the floor over a heat pipe under the floorboards - a warm spot next to
his chair. Her favorite past times in the house on Beverly Avenue were racing from the screened in porch, where she sat for
hours facing off with the cardinals, to the window in the dining room by the driveway. Years later, when I worked in
Manhattan and after my dad had died, she would sit in that same window and wait for me to come home at night. I would hear
her from a block away calling to me - she knew what time my train came in, and what time I arrived at home every night.
My dad had a running tally of how many mice each of them caught when the local supermarket was torn down and the mice
invaded the house. The end count was Baloo 13, Dad 14, so Dad won.
Her only sickness or emergency, until her stroke on April 22nd, was swallowing a sewing needle after playing with the thread.
What a rush to the emergency vet hospital!
When John came into our lives, he introduced her to "adventures". He would take her outside, first on a leash, then off the
leash. She followed him like a dog. When we moved to Huntington, she would run with him across the backyard. After we
moved to Virginia, John could walk all around our three acres in front of the house and she followed willingly. She even
ventured into the woods and seemed to really enjoy it! (of course we were always about five steps behind her...)
After John and I married and she moved to Huntington, for five years she lived - by her own choice - in our bedroom. Mr.
Foxhound, our golden retriever mutt, loved her to death, but she hated him with a passion. Their feuds were legendary. After
he died, she gracefully returned to her favorite place - my lap, and the recliner in the TV room.
Her favorite food was fish in every form. From the table, she begged for chicken and pork. She loved treats called
AquariYums and we were all sad when Purina discontinued them. We buried her with a packet of her treats and her favorite
toy mouse.
My favorite memories of Baloo are many...the ride to Virginia, where she perched on top of a pile of pillows in the backseat of
the Buick and seemed to smile as she watched the scenery roll by....how she hid behind the logs in the fireplace the day we
moved in here, and we couldn't find her....all the Christmas tree balls she managed to get down....how she would knock the
phone off the hook whenever something was wrong....how she loved John and followed him....the mystery of why she shred
any book by Mark Twain, no matter where we put it or how many times we moved it (why Mark Twain?! He was a cat
lover!)...her vocalizations that sounded like "Out!" when she wanted out and "Hello!" when she saw you....shoving books out
of the way on the bookcase to make her own cubby, so she could read over John's shoulde (we have a picture below of her
legendary literary talent!)
I'll close with this song John composed for her that became her theme song. Sing it to the tune of "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work
we go..." It's silly, but we used to sing it to her and laugh about something she did.
"Baloo, Baloo, it's all because of you..." And now add something good to the next line.
We love you Baloo. Rest in peace.
me through the bars of her cage until I finally relented and adopted her. I didn't want a black cat; I didn't want an adult cat; yet
here I was, taking home this teenage black cat with the huge green eyes.
She settled into our family life and my father fell in love with her. She loved to sit on his lap while he watched TV. Her
favorite place in our house in Floral Park was sleeping on the floor over a heat pipe under the floorboards - a warm spot next to
his chair. Her favorite past times in the house on Beverly Avenue were racing from the screened in porch, where she sat for
hours facing off with the cardinals, to the window in the dining room by the driveway. Years later, when I worked in
Manhattan and after my dad had died, she would sit in that same window and wait for me to come home at night. I would hear
her from a block away calling to me - she knew what time my train came in, and what time I arrived at home every night.
My dad had a running tally of how many mice each of them caught when the local supermarket was torn down and the mice
invaded the house. The end count was Baloo 13, Dad 14, so Dad won.
Her only sickness or emergency, until her stroke on April 22nd, was swallowing a sewing needle after playing with the thread.
What a rush to the emergency vet hospital!
When John came into our lives, he introduced her to "adventures". He would take her outside, first on a leash, then off the
leash. She followed him like a dog. When we moved to Huntington, she would run with him across the backyard. After we
moved to Virginia, John could walk all around our three acres in front of the house and she followed willingly. She even
ventured into the woods and seemed to really enjoy it! (of course we were always about five steps behind her...)
After John and I married and she moved to Huntington, for five years she lived - by her own choice - in our bedroom. Mr.
Foxhound, our golden retriever mutt, loved her to death, but she hated him with a passion. Their feuds were legendary. After
he died, she gracefully returned to her favorite place - my lap, and the recliner in the TV room.
Her favorite food was fish in every form. From the table, she begged for chicken and pork. She loved treats called
AquariYums and we were all sad when Purina discontinued them. We buried her with a packet of her treats and her favorite
toy mouse.
My favorite memories of Baloo are many...the ride to Virginia, where she perched on top of a pile of pillows in the backseat of
the Buick and seemed to smile as she watched the scenery roll by....how she hid behind the logs in the fireplace the day we
moved in here, and we couldn't find her....all the Christmas tree balls she managed to get down....how she would knock the
phone off the hook whenever something was wrong....how she loved John and followed him....the mystery of why she shred
any book by Mark Twain, no matter where we put it or how many times we moved it (why Mark Twain?! He was a cat
lover!)...her vocalizations that sounded like "Out!" when she wanted out and "Hello!" when she saw you....shoving books out
of the way on the bookcase to make her own cubby, so she could read over John's shoulde (we have a picture below of her
legendary literary talent!)
I'll close with this song John composed for her that became her theme song. Sing it to the tune of "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work
we go..." It's silly, but we used to sing it to her and laugh about something she did.
"Baloo, Baloo, it's all because of you..." And now add something good to the next line.
We love you Baloo. Rest in peace.
In Virginia - sleeping in the library, 'taking her shower', and in her last and favorite spot - her rocking chair
(my dad's old rocking chair).
(my dad's old rocking chair).
| Her last picture, April 12, 2008 |
