Smaft, Schmooterman, Bob Dole, Smafter-head, Vladimir Schmooterman,
Evil Cat, Bad Cat, Evil Smafter, Wafter, Bob Cat, Smaftulater,
Tribute to Vladimir
is the tribute I wrote and placed on my website after he died.
the Memory of Vladimir, my Big Grey Kitty.
yellow-green eyes, and loved to play with hot pink pom pons.
He was a western cat, and always held a spot in his heart for
the first place we lived, the little white and grey house we
rented on Grant Street in Fort Collins. His furniture kept disappearing...he
owned the furniture, you realize...whenever we moved or when
a dog would take it over, or when it got too old to be presentable
even for the purpose of a big grey kitty.
the smartest cat I knew. He'd fetch bottlecaps (the screw-on
kind) and small plastic caps like a dog. He didn't like dogs,
however, but he did tolerate the Pug. He was at his element back
in Colorado, before the urinary illness, before the move, before
the evil neighbor cat, before the dogs. Even when we moved to
the house we bought in Madison that was bigger than the little
house on Grant Street, escaping the evil neighbor cat from our
rented Madison flat, I think he never quite adapted. He had two
staircases instead of one, and almost twice the space as Grant
Street. But there was something missing for Vladimir. Maybe it
was the addition of dogs and a third cat. Vladimir was quite
first got him, he was tiny, except for his belly. Our first cat,
Natasha would beat him up, not understanding we got him as a
companion for her. He grew and grew. He'd then beat up Natasha.
We put him on a diet. He eventually retained a normal weight.
Then he lost weight. And eventually we lost him. This is the
hardest death of a pet I've ever dealt with so far in my life.
cats before. I got my first cat when I was 14...his name was
Pepper and had markings much like Vladimir, and he vanished without
a trace one day when he was still very young (catnapping)? To
make me feel better, my parents let me get another cat shortly
afterward. She died of feline enteritis before we were even able
to take her to a vet. Then there was the other cat I got several
months later, Velveteena, and then her dimwitted daughter that
we kept from her one and only unexpected litter. When I moved
out of my parents' house I was unable to take them with me to
my "no pets" rentals, and they were already established
in my parent's house, so by the time they died I was already
living far away in Wisconsin with three cats of my own. But Vladimir's
death was different. It was like losing a dear friend. I had
lost my Big Grey Kitty. He was supposed to be Stan's cat, but
he always loved me best.
His Own Words
is an excerpt from an interview with Vladimir when he was about
ten years old:
I Were A Human I'd Be . . .homosexual,
intellectual, brooding, a mama's boy, a Jewish Russian philosopher
and physicist, highly intelligent, maybe a nerd, angry, evil,
demon possessed, insane, fat.
I Love. Food;
puking; aligning small objects such as bottle caps and then swatting
them in order to study physics and bio-dynamics which is supposed
to be beyond cats; beating up Natasha; sitting on Ann's lap while
she's trying to make art.
I Hate. Duh....canines,
as a species, should systematically elimated.
Scariest Time in My Life (at least for my humans). I
was living in Colorado in 1989 on Grant Street (still my favorite
place) and I was really fat and happy. Then, my humans started
putting all my stuff in boxes. One day some people came in a
big truck and took all my furniture (even my favorite chair!).
This really stressed me out, and I also developed a problem peeing
at the same time this was all happening. My humans took me to
the vet where he squeezed my bladder. It really hurt, and then
they put me on a special diet. Ann and Stan said I had "Kitty
Crystals." Not only that, but they put Natasha and I in
the same box they take us to the vet in, put us in Ann's car
and drove really far for what seemed like forever. We had to
stay in two strange tiny rooms for two nights. I felt horrible...I
thought I was going to die. Then we arrived at this empty flat
with this bully neighbor cat who lived upstairs. Ann and Stan
slept on the floor for several nights, because they didn't have
my bed. Fortunately, my kitty crystals were clearing up and I
was getting used to the new Boring Tasting Science Diet For Fatsos.
I didn't like the set-up much; they kept my litter pan in the
bathroom. I liked it before at Grant Street when it was in the
basement and didn't have to share it with the human's toilet
and shower. Then one day, the same people in the big truck who
took my furniture away about a week ago back in Colorado, came
and delivered all the furniture back to me! I guess they felt
guilty or something. I still didn't like living there--the neighbor
cat tried to break in the windows to kill me once, but at least
my health cleared up. And about a year later, Ann and Stan took
me to yet another different place, the same place that I've lived
for 7 years now. It's almost as good as Grant Street (except
now I have to share it with two dogs)...and I have a basement
for my litter pan.