Post by @quester@mementomori.social

2026-07-26 12:55 UTC

#Cats from my past, a thread/5 Bastet. She was my partner's first cat. She was a birthday present for his 30th from a friend whose farm cat had had kittens. She was born in 2010. She was named after the cat-goddess of ancient Egypt. The first photo is Bastet with me on the day we picked her up from the yard where she was living with her mother and siblings. Besides the cat food that was available to them on a porch, it was clear the kittens did also eat other things, like berries, as was obvious during the long drive home and of course when a kitty has to go, a kitty has to go. The second photo is of my partner holding Bastet in his hands. She was so smol! I mean she never really grew up to be that big, but as we have had another female cat since her, we figured that's just how female cats grow. Bastet was very social, I assume due to coming to us the moment she turned 2 months and then having been handled by us constantly and we also talked to her, a lot. So much that she quickly learned her name and would reply to us calling her name. She'd "chat" to us all the time whenever we talked to her. Especially, if she knew she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. Those chirps were accompanied by what I'd call sort of rapid slow blinks 😂 Like she knew she wasn't supposed to be in that place or do that thing, and she was really, really sorry and she wouldn't do it again. Honest! Bastet was a pinball cat. Like absolutely a pinball cat. She was really interested when something was going on with the pins we had at home, and while she was with us, we had a bunch of machines at home. She was 1 when we started the arcade, and usually new games would rotate so that they first came to our apartment, where my partner would fix them if necessary and we'd play them, until either there was a free spot at the arcade or another machine was on its way home to us. The last two photos prove that Bastet was always in the middle of the action, whenever a game got opened up. Her favorite thing to do was to jump inside the cabinet if she was left unattended with a pinball machine that had either an open coin door or an uplifted playfield. She also learned the sound of a plunger. She knew that that sound meant a ball was about to go onto a playfield and she could chase it! The bingo machine had a very distinctive plunger, the springs were pretty old, but not worn enough to require changing. All Bastet needed to hear was even the slightest squeek and she'd come running to the game and jump on the playfield glass. She became best friends with Roope, who we rescued from my sister, and who I will be talking about in a later toot, and Wäinö, our current elder gentleman. And she also enjoyed our dog, Gaia, a grand Newfie lady, whose huge fluffy tail she loved grooming and playing with. I might have a picture of those two cuddling together, too. I'll have to have a look in a minute. Bastet made it to 5 years old. Sadly in 2015 she came down with a liver disease, which we spotted a bit too late, and the city vet didn't really react to quickly enough. She passed away at home, and was laid to rest in my in-laws' garden, which was where Roope, who passed before her, had been laid to as well. Bastet was the most wonderful little funny fuzzbutt who we had the fortune of having in our lives.

Replies (1)

@quester@mementomori.social 2026-07-26 13:24

#Cats from my past, a thread/6 Roope. The magnificent licorice tiger. He was rescued as a kitten from being put down by my sister and her then boyfriend, now ex-husband. I know she had good intentions, but being exposed to her ex was not good for Roope. He and Bastet met during our evacuation period in 2011, when our apartment was deemed uninhabitable for a couple of months. We bounced from place to place, trying to rely on relatives for help. Bastet stayed with my parents, until they decided they didn't want to help us anymore (this was the straw that broke the camel's back for me with my folks, long story). So we resorted to my brother's apartment, where one of my sisters was also staying, another long story, which I won't go into. But Roope was there as well, because the sister who rescued him decided they wouldn't want him in their house anymore. The first picture is of Roope and Bastet sitting at a window in my brother's apartment, Roope waiting for a chance to escape outside, and Bastet just enjoying seeing stuff outside. Roope ran away outside a couple of times, but always returned eventually. Before this, we had had encounters with Roope at my parents' house, amd we witnessed him stealing plum pies and growling as he ate them, making sure no one took them from him. But during the couple of weeks we stayed in the apartment Roope was in, he and Bastet proved to get along really well. So we gave it some thought, and decided that we'll take Roope in to live with us. The best decision we made at the time. It was clear Roope had been abused. He didn't like being held, and if you pet him "too long", he would slap and bite you when he had enough. And the growling and/or running away and hiding with his treat also told a story. But during his six months with us he slowly realised that we're not bad. Eventually he figured that our affection didn't come with bad consequences. One day I was taking a nap, and woke up to a heavy weight on my legs. Imagine my surprise, when the weight turned out to be Roope, sleeping quite soundly on me! That is the second picture. He didn't exactly jump onto our laps after this, but if we were lying on the bed on our stomachs, he might climb on us and find a comfy position to sleep. And he stopped being aggressive if we petted him for longer periods of time. That was great. Roope also became a sort of a pinball cat. Not as eager as Bastet was, but he did enjoy roaming the tops of the pinball machines, and always came to look if a game was taken away or brought in. Roope's greatest skill, though, was his ability to find his way to the strangest of places. The fourth photo is of him on the top level of our cleaning product shelves. There's no specific way to get there, unless the cat either jumps as high as it can and then gets some additional boost from the lower shelves. The strangest thing, though, was the time we found him from the hallway's hat rack, which has zero lower levels, just coats or hoodies that really don't have any leverage to help a kitty get that high. We didn't have the security cam in the hallway back then yet, so this will remain a mystery. As I mentioned, Roope was only for six months with us. Turned out he had a tumor, which, as it grew, started to block his urethra. And by the time it was evident that it was really bad, we had to make a tough decision. He was only 4 years old. But he left a huge impact on us. He was a wonderful cat, and really enforced our willingness to rescue older cats.

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