I can praktikly not tipe cuz my face is leeking so bad.
My deerest oldest frend in the Cat Blogosphere, Kismet the Big Mancat, went to the Rainbow Bridge this morning. He had suffered from cardiomyopathy for a cupple of yeers. Before he took the walk to the Bridge, he peed all over his ladey’s bed, which was fitting. He was sleeping with her when he passed.
Kismet was like a big bruther to me, but not as lowd as my big bruther Mao. For thoze of you who weren’t arownd for the beginning of the Cat Blogosphere, Kismet contributed sevrul grate werds to the CB vokabulary. Werds like “mancat” and “whisker humps.”
Speeking of humps, Kismet liked to hump blankets, and that’s how I got the idea for my Boner Blankie wich has made my life much much much more plezhurable and helps me deel with da urjes.
Kismet also led the charge of Feline Fashunistas. He deezerves a spot in the Mancat GQ Hall of Fame, cuz he reely knew how to dress. His stile tended toward stripey tshirts and hoodies.
Kismet tawt me all about being a Mancat. We kinda growed up together. Once he sed, “Win in dowt, pee on it,” wich was good advice altho I never reely did that cuz I wuzn’t as brave as Kismet win it came to gitting in trubble.
Kismet lived on the meen streets of Brooklin New Yawk with a pak of killer chiwawas win he was reskyooed by his lady. At leest, that’s his story. I always admired his street schmarts.
Kismet is survived by his ladey, his sister Sophie and Henry the Bun. And his bestest best frend ever, Skeezix the Cat.
I love you, Kizzy. I hope you and Rocky have fun tawking about Mancat stuff and Spicy Vixins in a nice warm spot across the Bridge.