Sweet Keaggy is gone, and MTG has very kindly put away all the cat paraphernalia. The house feels empty without that small, inactive cat, but we still have the memories. So here is a Keaggy story for you.

In the summer of 1999, I lived in a townhouse with 3 other girls and my two cats, who were then about two years old. Keaggy’s favorite toy was a q-tip, and he was forever digging them out of the trash or knocking them off of counters to play with. One Saturday morning, I was the only one up and sitting on the living room couch watching Keaggy play with what I thought was a q-tip. After a few minutes, I realized that it was not q-tip shaped. A little more investigation revealed that it was a mouse. A live mouse. Keaggy was tossing up, pouncing on, and tossing up again a live mouse in my living room, not five feet from where I sat.

Obviously, I did the only rational thing I could do: I ran up the stairs, into my roommate’s room, and jumped on her bed seeking shelter from the tiny, half-dead mouse. I know she appreciated the early morning heart attack.

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Keaggy’s gone, my roommate is in a nunnery (literally: she entered a convent that fall), and I’m a 1300 miles from that house with a completely different life. But I’m grateful for the memories.

*I promise, this is the last of the Keaggy posts. Most likely. Here’s a little video in thanks for your patience.