M is for Moonie

MoonieMoonie

My first sighting of Ms Moonie was in September 2015.  I had just resigned from my position at the University of Sydney. I had just moved to a new neighbourhood. I was adrift in a tsunami of change.

It was fate that our paths crossed. You caused me to stop dead in my tracks and appreciate the small things. When I was in your company, nothing else mattered. I could whether any storm.

Moonie epitomised all things cat, her take it or leave it cat-ittude, her pleasure-seeking ways, her pout, her purr, her petite figure, her pink grumpy cat colour, her Siamese sexiness.

Then and there I declared my desire to come back as a cat in my next life.

I fell head over heals in admiration. I began to question my loyalty to Flora.

So frequent were my facebook snaps of Ms Moonie, that questions such as ‘ Have you got another cat?’ ‘ Who has stolen your heart?’ began to feature.

But Flora had my heart. Always.

Moonie just escorted me along Abermarle Street, Newtown each day. Intent on seeing me onto the bus, the train. She had Flora and my best interests at heart, ensuring I did the daily 9-5 so I  could afford my rent, continue to by top shelf cat food.

My adoration of Moonie, was always about Flora.

It has been a year since Ms Moonie and I were neighbours. And I miss her encouragement, her purr, her presence. I have been back on numerous occasions, keen to a catch-up, only to be disappointed.

But the good people of Abermarle Street, know me well and keep me updated of her movements, on occasions when my smile turns upside down when a visit proves fruitless.

Ms Moonie – you really are just too cool. If there is an afterlife, I vow to model my second coming on all things you.

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