Monthly Archives: December 2009

Twas On Lofty Vase’s Side…….The Doctor Doolittle Diaries.








Best Experienced With:        Counting Crows;           Round Here





I was not always a cat whisperer and Chez Mulligan was not always the furry rescue habitat it is today.  Have always been amused by people that comment dismissively; “oh, you are a cat person”.  Most of these folks do not ask questions such as “do you love all animals or just cats”?  All animals are welcome up here in The Attic.  We are listed in the most search engines as a cross between The Island of Misfit Toys and Marshall University’s 1972 football team.

In fact, due to travel and such, Chez Mully started out with an easy to maintain pet that only ate once a week or so.  A ten foot Burmese python.

Once she got aggressive, progressed to eating large warm blooded animals, and decided my arm looked tasty, the ten foot Burmese python moved on and three green iguanas moved in.  John, Godzilla, and Rodan were perfect pets.  They slept on the seldom used pilot lights on the stove from 5:00 p.m. until 9:00 a.m.   At 9:00 a.m. they moved outside to the deck where they worked on their tans, hummed show tunes, and snarfed down kale and blueberries with reckless abandon.

Dogs are out of the question when your career adventures take you away from the house more than two nights a week.  Given enough land and time (and no business travel), would opt for a few dozen Tibetan Mastiffs.  Compared to a cat, the only pet easier to care for are the fish you win at your school fair by throwing a ping pong ball into a goldfish bowl.  Goldfish bore most of us to tears after the first three minutes.

What do you want your obituary to say?  Mine?  Short and simple, unlike most of the MLOGs we pin to the bulletin board up here in The Attic.   Mine will say this:


Mully had the most remarkable and diverse collection of friends and acquaintances that he amassed through adventures over the years.  He laughed like a hyena as much as possible and never passed up the opportunity to hear a good story.  He loved beer and Hostess snack cakes, as well as the magic and mystery that are Razzles.  First they’re a candy and then they’re a gum.  Little round Razzles are so much fun.


Here is Sage’s obituary.

Sage Mulligan, 10, died at 3:00 a.m. on December 23, 2009 after a bravely fought, but far too short, battle with liver cancer.


As near as most can figure, Sage was born around May, 1999 in the vacant lot next to Chez Mulligan to an unknown male cat and an unknown female cat.  He was captured  at the age of seven weeks by Mully and Opes when they arrived home from Street Scene at the crack of dawn.  Deemed “unadoptable” due to a developmental issue, Sage chose to live out his natural life in Chez Mulligan with the rest of the pack.




Sage never had the opportunity (or need) to work, but had he chosen a career we are certain he would have given Ricky Bobby a run for his money on the Nascar circuit.  He never took a wife, instead choosing at twelve weeks to live the life of a eunuch-like monk, dispensing wisdom for those that sought him out.  Hence………..his name.




Sage was a member of the New Reformed Church of the Holy Feline and enjoyed bathing in sun rays, saying his own name aloud in a mimic form, and kitty treats.  No cat has ever loved kitty treats more than Sage.




His family wrote: “Sage loved rolling around in catnip and chasing fake mice with feather tails when he was younger. As he matured, he most loved walking upstairs to eat as much food as possible, then retiring to the big bed downstairs for an eighteen or nineteen hour nap . Sage always told a good story and was a gentle cat.  He will be missed greatly by his best friend Bruiser and the man that fed him the kitty treats.”

Sage is survived by his sisters and brothers Marsha, Jan, Cindy, Bruiser, Ceeeeeeeatie, and Deeeeeeeogie.  His silly antics, lack of balance, and propensity to fall to the right will be sorely missed by the guy that kept Sage fat over the years. 

In lieu of flower arrangements, please feel free to go adopt an “unadoptable” pet like Sage before they get euthanized by The Man.  The shelters are brimming with Sages and there is no such thing as unadoptable.


The Mind of Mully


Round here we’re never sent to bed early
And nobody makes us wait
Round here we stay up very, very very
Very late


Thanks for visiting us for a while, Sage.  You and Mr. Samuelson have a wonderful time up there postulating economic theories.  Please tell Jesus “happy birthday” from all of us at His birthday party on Friday.

The Attic now has six cats, because seven would be just plain weird.


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