Girl aka Squidgy Woojnick 1991-2008

My sisters and I had to say goodbye to a dear, dear being today! For nearly 17 years, our beloved curmudgeonly, furry, wiggly, bushytailed and bi-polar cat filled our lives with joy. She was born in Totowa NJ in the spring of 1991 and quickly became a member of our family. She ended up having three sister-kitty-mommies and even more names.

Girl lived with my two older sisters, D & G who shared spoiling duties in her early years. Nine years later, she was fostered out to me in California. We had four wonderful years together, during which time I re-christened her, Woojnick.
Prior to living with me, she'd cycled through a couple names. First Dusty, the name used when the vet snipped her bits. Given her grey-orangey color she was a mobile dustball. Winona was a short lived experiment. At one point we thought he was a rare male ginger cat worth millions but then found out that she was just Girl. That name seemed to stick, until she came to CA and did the typical Hollywood thing and took on a starlet name.

It was an accidental christening. For nearly 2 weeks after she first moved out, she virtually lived under my bed. She only came out to pee and poop--strange, now that I think about it. When she finally got used to living with me, she started crawling into my bed. One morning as I rubbed her furry neck and made silly nonsense sounds, suddenly out popped the sounds wooj-wooj-wooj. I heard my self say: "You are such a squidgy woojnick." And thus she was renamed.

Of course she didn't answer to Woojnick any more than she did to Girl, but it provided me with years of delight making up variations and songs and silly rhymes to go along with her name. Here's the not so short list: Woojy Squidnick, Mama-woojnick, Mamajna, Squidge, Naaack! Nickel bag of funk. I paricularly liked Squidgle D. Bots. She packed on a bit of junk in her trunk during her stay in LA and she'd run to me with her little botty jiggling from side to side. It just seemed like a natural name and so fun to say.

Life with Wooj was full of adventure and mishap. By the time I got her, she was already grumpy, rather cranky and set in her ways. She had this way of loving you one minute and then sinking her claws into you the next. She attacked people at random. I had to warn my guests and cat sitters to be very careful. Once when my brother-in- law visited, he had the misfortune of having to go the bathroom. Woojnick attacked like a demon in the night and poor bro ended up in the ER with a nasty infection. To this day he hasn't forgotten or forgiven. My friend B., on the other hand, was very generous and forgiving when Woojnick mistook her 5 year-old daughter's leg for a chicken bone. It was a sue-worthy attack but she reassured me today that the cat was only doing what cats do. "She's descended from Tigers."

That tiger wasn't afraid to bite the hand or foot that fed her. When she'd had enough of cuddling and head rubbing, she'd turn without warning and take a chunk out of my hand. Sometimes in the middle of the night as she slept curled up on my feet, she'd suddenly get a taste for human flesh. I have the scars to prove it.

Once when I took a vacation D., a college friend, house & cat sat for me. I hadn't even made it through security when I got a call from D. I heard a most miserable caterwauling in the background. I thought the cat was dying. Turned out it was only 6ft tall 200lb D. being cornered by my 12lb fur ball protecting her turf. He was in for a week from hell. Using the laundry basket lid for a shield, and armed with a squirt bottle, the poor man had to sleep on the couch for days. It was hard to get people to feed her when I had to travel, but I have many brave and stalwart friends who risked life and limb to feed her.

My older sister D. pampered Woojnick, unbelievably. She made sure she got the best grooming and care ever. Woojnick was so attuned attuned to her comings and goings. Girl waited by the door because she knew D. would scoop her up and toss her up in the air as soon as D. entered. It was D's shoulder on which she loved to perch, and whose neck she draped herself around, like a stole.

Eventually Woojnick moved back to Florida and once again became Girl. She spent the last five years of her life in tropical splendor. She had a wonderful life. She had her own bed and special toys. She liked to be hand fed water from the bathroom sink. She loved watching people take showers and do their bathroom business. She had her own water fountain which she liked to sit next to and stick her head in the flow. A chiken bone tied to a string drove her into mad paroxysms of joy. She loved tuna fish and dried bonito and especially dried salted cod. Oh yes, she also LOVED ice-cream.

Two days ago, my sister, G. took Girl/Woojnick to the beach to help ease the transition. Today before the last trip to the vet, Woojnick got her very own ice-cream cone--vanilla. G. said Woojnick-Girl licked it with enthusiasm she hadn't been able to muster for weeks.

I am sad to see Woojnick go but grateful for the joy and laughter and everything in between. Mostly I am grateful to her because many years ago when she was just a baby, she saved G.'s life. G had fallen asleep and forgotten that she'd left a pot on the stove. Neighbors had already alerted the fire-department but in the meantime, it was Dusty-Winona-Girl-Woojnick- who nudged G awake. When the firefighters came, they so scared Wooj that she tried to attack them. That's OUR Woojnick!

As I write this I am travelling for work so I don't have any pictures of her to put up today. I will update the post in a few days with some of my favourite Woojnick pix!

MOURNING FOR WOOJNICK

Nine nights may be the Jamaican version of sitting Shiva. When a person dies, we celebrate their lives for nine nights before we bury them. Woojnick wasn't a human person but she was full of life and spirit and personality. When I was little my mom told me that cats don't go to heaven because they don't have souls. I beg to differ. So tonight and for the next nine nights, I celebrate you Woojnick Girl cat.

Peek-a-Boo Pissing

Do the people who design public restroom stalls ever use them? I am guessing that they don't because how could they allow such ridiculouly large gaps between the doors and the support posts of the stalls? There is nothing more disconcerting than being in a stall and being able to see out like it was some kind of "look-out" point. And if I can look out, folks can look in. This is troubling for women's bathrooms because usually there is a long line of women waiting. I know that when I am on the outside I can see in--even if it is a slivered view. I don't want anyone to see a sliver of my ass squatting!
One of the most egregious toilet stalls I have come across yet is one Terminal 1 of the Los Angeles International airport. It's the handicap stall immediately to the left as you enter. I like using the handicap stall because naturally when I am at the airport I have luggage and I hate squeezing myself and my bags into a tiny stall while trying to avoid rubbing up against the dirty toilet. But the trade-off is that I end up basically pissing in public because the distance between the edge of the door to the jamb is at least an inch. Is this a toilet or the Delaware Water Gap? Sometimes I have a bag that I can use to block the free peep show!

(These pictures are not from the LAX toilet)