He is gone and buried already with his favorite hump toy.
Moose was a shelter cat that I adopted in July 2005. He was 3 years old and came with the name Gus, but I knew it did not fit him. He was much larger than my other cat and every time he jumped on something, things would get knocked over, and I said "You are such a moose." And that is how he got his name.
Moose tested my patience over the last 5 years, purposely knocking dishes over to get to the food inside, playing with ice cubes in my glass of water, invariably knock it over and breaking the glass. I couldn't use a crock pot because he would try to get the lid off to get to the food inside. I caught him on the stove more than once, in between pots of food I was cooking, just certain he could get what was inside.
He was terrified of fans and would walk as far around them as he could. He wouldn't walk directly under the ceiling fans. I always wondered what had happened to him that he was so afraid of them.
He was also a bit dog-like; he loved liver treats and would take anything from my fingers to eat. He would stand up on his back legs and walk (he could go about 4 steps). He made all kinds of crazy noises. He slept snuggled up to the back of or on my thighs at night. He didn't like being handled much - it was not uncommon for him to bite someone for petting him anywhere but on top of his head or under his chin, but I loved him just the same.
Moose hated dogs - I'll never forget him launching off the cat tree and onto Bear's head when Bear chased his own tail one night. That cat was hanging on, biting, and scratching Bear for all he was worth and Bear could not get him off.
Moose, my dear PITA boy, I will never forget you. Run free Doofus-cat. You will be missed.
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