Elmerisms

He would "hold hands" with me in bed.  He would put his paw between my toes and we'd fall asleep that way.

When Abbie and I first got together, Elmer would jump on his chest from the floor - as in launching himself off the floor and up over the mattress and landing full on Abbie's chest.  He did this each morning between 3 and 4 AM.  I thought it was great.  Abbie felt violated.

He loved my dad and, after Mama died, Daddy and Elmer were tight.  Daddy would rub Elmer with his shoe and pat him with his big, strong, daddy hand.  After Daddy died, Elmer hid for a while and we had to coax him out of the drainage pipe at the end of the driveway.  He had gone looking for Daddy and had been missing a couple of days.  I was so happy to see him and to get him in the pet caddy to take him home with me.  I took one of Daddy's sneakers, the ones he would rub Elmer with, so he could have Daddy's smell.  He spent a day or two in my garage, curled up with the sneaker before coming in the house to be with us. 

He was great with my kids, and would sit there and let them pet him and give him sloppy love.  He was a passive cat, but if either of the boys got too rough, he would tag them with his paw and let them know he was tired of it.

As he got older, he had claws that didn't retract.  It started on his left front paw, where he had been through surgery from a former injury.

While at my parents house, he came home one night with his flea collar stuck in his mouth.  Somehow, I woke up and went to the back door as he came toward the house.  I could tell something was wrong with his mouth in the dark, but couldn't make it out until I got him in the house.  It was still around his neck and wedged in his jaw.  He couldn't do anything.  I put him on the bed, soothed him and pet him, and gently took scissors and cut it free.  He didn't freak out at all.  He was probably around 4 or 5 years old.

One night, later, he came home lame and had either been injured or had his leg caught in a door.  We had two surgeries on his leg and he actually had plates and screws on the bone.  He wore a cast and this big metal thing to stabilize the bone as it healed.  Then he wore a wrap cast.  This went on for weeks and he did good.  My parents thought I was crazy for spending all the money on the surgeries, but I didn't want him to lose the leg.  They petted on him and took good care of him with me.

Elmer had a special bond with the father of one of my private students, Phil.  Whenever Phil brought the kids for lessons, Elmer would have to get on the couch with him and Phil would pet him tenderly and speak to him sweetly.  Elmer loved him.

Elmer didn't meow.  I don't know what happened, but after kittenhood, he just quit meowing.  Only if he was stressed or really angry would he meow, and even then it wasn't a normal meow anymore.  I don't know if he got hurt or what.  At the end, when he was so sick and lying there, he groaned some and I knew that he was really hurting.  That's when I decided not to force any more fluids around him. 

Elmer got his name after I brought him home - he would wrap himself around my feet and nearly got stepped on several times, and tripped me numerous times throughout his life.  He stuck to me like glue - hence the name. 

He would let me touch his front paws and hold hands with his paws, but did not like his back or tail touched.  Not his tummy either, though his chest was not always off limits.

Though he didn't meow, he had an incredible and powerful purr. 

When we moved to our house here, he liked to get up on the very tip top of my kitchen cabinets and look down on his world.

As he got older, he and Abbie got closer.  He would wait for Abbie to finish his shower every morning and then would curl up around his feet while he was shaving and getting ready in the bathroom.  Abbie won't admit it, but he loved it.  Elmer did that right up until the last few days before he died.  That's how we knew it was the real end. 

Elmer also liked to get in the shower with me.  He would rub on the shower door and I'd let him in.  As soon as he got wet, he'd want back out.  After the shower was finished, he'd go in and inspect it.

He was extremely clean.  Never a poopy bottom never matted eyes.  When he got really old, I'd help him with his eyes and he appreciated it and would sit still and let me rub them.

Even at the end, when he could hardly walk, he didn't mess in the house.  Never.  Not once.  A perfect Southern gentleman. 

He was gorgeous.  Coloring and soft fur.  And to be so big and so pretty, yet he didn't act like he thought he was a superstar.  He acted like lord of the manor, the Southern gentleman he always was.

He loved having his ears scratched, outside around the tops, on the bottoms and a little on the inside, and even loved having the tips rubbed. 

He was very graceful in his movements and reminded me of a regal lion. 

He was so big, you could hear him walking at night, on the hard wood floors.

He was very well behaved at the Vet and did well for them. 

He wouldn't butt heads with me, but he would head butt my feet all the time. 

Elmer would put his paw on you, a little pat, saying, "Hey, I'm here; it's time to pet me."  When you would stop petting him, he'd pat you again.  This would happen again and again, until he got ready to lie down and get comfy. 

He loved to sleep at my feet but didn't much get up by my hips or head.

He wasn't a licker at all as far as people went.  He only licked when he was grooming.  He would lick Henna though, and sniff her.  The only other animal he was intimate like that with.