Shadowdancer and I had to put our beautiful cat Moose down yesterday. Moose was a fluffy burnt orange-and-white cat who loved the Longhorns and truly had a hand -- or paw -- in winning three national championships for the Horns.
He came to us around 1997 as a stray who would stick around our house for a few weeks, eating the cat food we put out for the strays, then he's mosey on. He'd be gone for about three months, then he'd show back up. We decided to adopt him and add him to our indoor feline family in February 2000. He'd reappeared, and it was obvious he'd come to us because he knew we'd help him -- he was in bad shape. We got him the medical care he needed from our wonderful Aggie vet, but two months later he was sick again, this time with a serious blood parasite called hemobartonella, which deforms the red blood cells and renders them unable to carry oxygen to the body. We took him to the vet, and he almost died, but he pulled through. The vet was almost about to tell us it was time to "make a decision," but the antibiotics and care he received at her clinic saved him.
It was after that that we started to realize his powers in helping the Horns. Texas was playing in the 2002 Big 12 baseball tourmanent and was struggling -- the Horns needed a double play badly. Moose was on the bed with Shadowdancer and me as we watched the game, and I petted Moose and said, "What say, Moosie-cat, the Horns need a double play. Can you get one for us?" He looked up at me, gave a simple, "Meow," and the next pitch? Ground ball double play!
When the Horns went to Omaha later, again Moose was ready to help. Just the simple act of petting this cat always seemed to lead to something good happening for the Longhorns. We won the CWS and were national champions with Moose's help.
I told the story of the Michigan Rose Bowl on these boards -- how Texas trailed by 10, and I exercised "relocation therapy" by moving from our den to our bedroom to watch the game. Moose went with me, and as I petted him and talked to him, Vince Young ran for a touchdown. Moose left the room and Michigan kicked a field goal. Moose returned, sat beside me, got petted, and VY scored again! And when Dusty was about the attempt the winning field goal, I petted Moose and asked him for the points, and he looked up at me and said, "Meow." Boom -- good -- game over.
And throughout it all, Moose was calm, collected and completely sure of his powers.
The next year, I watched the Rose Bowl in Austin at the home of a good friend. But Shadowdancer took his supper break from work during the second half. At 6:42, Moose jumped on the couch and sat next to 'Dancer. With Shadowdancer petting him and talking to him, Moose provided the assistance that VY needed to bring the Horns from 12 points behind and into football lore forever.
Moose's health started to decline after that 2006 Rose Bowl, and he found it increasingly hard to make championships happen. But he brought us an Alamo Bowl victory with Shadowdancer taking care of the petting, and a Holiday Bowl victory with me doing the petting.
Our beautiful orange-and-white boy is gone now, but he will never be forgotten.
Moosie ... I will always love you.
He came to us around 1997 as a stray who would stick around our house for a few weeks, eating the cat food we put out for the strays, then he's mosey on. He'd be gone for about three months, then he'd show back up. We decided to adopt him and add him to our indoor feline family in February 2000. He'd reappeared, and it was obvious he'd come to us because he knew we'd help him -- he was in bad shape. We got him the medical care he needed from our wonderful Aggie vet, but two months later he was sick again, this time with a serious blood parasite called hemobartonella, which deforms the red blood cells and renders them unable to carry oxygen to the body. We took him to the vet, and he almost died, but he pulled through. The vet was almost about to tell us it was time to "make a decision," but the antibiotics and care he received at her clinic saved him.
It was after that that we started to realize his powers in helping the Horns. Texas was playing in the 2002 Big 12 baseball tourmanent and was struggling -- the Horns needed a double play badly. Moose was on the bed with Shadowdancer and me as we watched the game, and I petted Moose and said, "What say, Moosie-cat, the Horns need a double play. Can you get one for us?" He looked up at me, gave a simple, "Meow," and the next pitch? Ground ball double play!
When the Horns went to Omaha later, again Moose was ready to help. Just the simple act of petting this cat always seemed to lead to something good happening for the Longhorns. We won the CWS and were national champions with Moose's help.
I told the story of the Michigan Rose Bowl on these boards -- how Texas trailed by 10, and I exercised "relocation therapy" by moving from our den to our bedroom to watch the game. Moose went with me, and as I petted him and talked to him, Vince Young ran for a touchdown. Moose left the room and Michigan kicked a field goal. Moose returned, sat beside me, got petted, and VY scored again! And when Dusty was about the attempt the winning field goal, I petted Moose and asked him for the points, and he looked up at me and said, "Meow." Boom -- good -- game over.
And throughout it all, Moose was calm, collected and completely sure of his powers.
The next year, I watched the Rose Bowl in Austin at the home of a good friend. But Shadowdancer took his supper break from work during the second half. At 6:42, Moose jumped on the couch and sat next to 'Dancer. With Shadowdancer petting him and talking to him, Moose provided the assistance that VY needed to bring the Horns from 12 points behind and into football lore forever.
Moose's health started to decline after that 2006 Rose Bowl, and he found it increasingly hard to make championships happen. But he brought us an Alamo Bowl victory with Shadowdancer taking care of the petting, and a Holiday Bowl victory with me doing the petting.
Our beautiful orange-and-white boy is gone now, but he will never be forgotten.
