Cowboy has gone “Home”.

My precious little furr-ball is home with his Maker and I believe he is warming the lap of the late Grandpa Kenny Greiman.

At the tender age of 8, Cowboy contracted a heart disease that led to a kidney failure and within two months, he was taken from us.

Cowboy Cat 2000 was laid to rest underneath the shed in our backyard-his favorite outdoor destination. From his hidden vantage point, he would slyly survey the going’s ons in our yard; irritating the squirrels, birds and any other creature simply trying to go about their daily life.

As you can see, this blanket was one of his favorites to snuggle underneath on cold winter days. We wrapped his little body in this blanket, tied it with the string he loved to chase around the house and gave him back to the earth.

Buddy, I’m going to miss you-Cowboy Cat Greiman, October 2003-August 2011.

He’s just not that into baths

He’s just not that into baths….
It’s very typical to have a cat that doesn’t like water. I know you’ve heard it before.

But this giant fur ball was brought down to size by the strong hand of a bath and the pictures are worth sharing.

The unsuspecting kitty.

Little does Cowboy Cat know that he needs a bath…and needs it bad.

A visiting kitty (who will remain nameless) brought fleas to our giant fur ball.

Cowboy Cat investigates his arch nemesis.

The fur ball’s worst fear is realized. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Cowboy brings his work Home

I was in the middle of cooking, when I distinctly heard a ruckus.
We have an open door policy in the fall, and I knew instantly who to blame for the said ruckus.

Cowboy Cat 2000.

Prancing about my breakfast nook was the little furry guy-with his prey.

I believe that his preference for crunchy insects is due to a tender heart-he just can’t bring himself to kill the other furry creatures that roam the backyard.

Biceps thinks it’s due to his lack of claws and basic hunting skills.

Whatever.

He can be so vicious, but disarming. Wrapped up in the furriest little body you could ever imagine, lies a killer inside.

His favorite action was to place his paw on top of it. Genius.

And then, he would occasionally bat it underneath the door.

Only to fish it out again.

Finally, he moved the game of cat and butterfly outside.

At least he cleans up after himself.

Cowboy perched for awhile here, letting the other butterflies know who is king of this castle.

After a few minutes, he was bored with the kill and came inside for some man-made treats.

My vicious little killer loves his ‘Party Mix’…

The Sacrificial Moth

*if you have an attachment to moths and their well-being, maybe you shouldn’t be reading this….

Cowboy is quite proud of himself if he ever catches anything.
Devoid of claws and the basic hunting skills most kitties were taught by their momma’s; he has a lot working against him.

Ooh, what’s this fluttering around in the grass?

Sniff, sniff?

One heavily sniffed moth was transferred from grass to patio.

More sniffing was involved after the transfer, until the moth decided it was time for him to escape the gigantic furry creature.

An intense game of ‘Cat and Moth’ began. It looked like the moth was winning.

The heavy paw of justice informed me that I had spoken too soon.

Hit ‘em with the right!

Uppercut!

Eyes are locked, whiskers twitching, he’s coming in for the kill.

One last sniff, oh give me one last sniff….

Crunch. Chomp. Crunch.

Goodbye, Mr. Moth. You fought the good fight. But Cowboy needs to win one every so often. Thank you for your sacrifice.