GEORGE
May 6, 2007 - January 27, 2025
George “Flava Flav” Lager Donaldson Bailey.
MISSSSTTTER George. Little George. Warrior George! George, George, George of the concrete Jungle. G man. George the cat. Sir George of Catelot. GEOOOOORRRGE!
George came into Malin and I’s life during the first week of living in our first apartment starting our sophomore year of college (much to our roommate Badger’s surprise and eventual acceptance). His origin story is purposely unclear because at the time I didn’t want to admit to my parents I willingly got a kitten before I found a job. As Malin said best, “the little guy lived 8 lives before ever even leaving Hayden Square.” As a kitten and much of his life, he was full of energy, wonder, and a healthy amount of spite. From catching flys with his bare paws mid-leap to diving across the room to fetch his favorite green straw like a dog, he was a real show-off. He often performed his tricks for my friends, becoming the life of any party. During our college years, he tricked Malin and I into feeding him anytime either of us came home from class. We only realized once his little pouch began swinging as he ran and after he ate everything in his automatic feeder during a 24 hour trip away. He was a real nut job when he was young.
He loved laying on my chest, especially the first moment I woke up, sleeping in me and Dusty’s arms, and sitting in my lap every morning while I drank my coffee and played my word games. He was the best co-pilot and has undoubtedly spent more hours on the open road with me than anyone else. Without fail, he always took a giant poop within the first hour of any car ride. Sometimes before we even got out of the neighborhood. But he loved riding shotgun looking out the window every year while we drove back and forth from Arizona to Texas then Texas to New York and back again. Best of all, he never complained about the amount of Something Corporate I would scream sing.
He was fiercely loyal - loving Dusty (sometimes more than me), his other mom - Malin who he missed dearly, my mom who he often chose to sleep with over me whenever we were home visiting, his Uncle Miguel who hung with him the best, and all the roommates he shared space with over the years, especially Katie. He was suspicious of kids but that didn’t stop my nieces from being obsessed with him, often asking “Where’s George?” the moment we started Facetiming. I found out just this week that once after a supervised night chasing moths on my parents balcony he somehow got on top of their roof- nearly giving my mom a heart attack. Crazy little dude was always up to mischief.
He hated living in our tiny noisy Brooklyn apartment with limited windows, just as much as he hated my harmonica playing which he made sure I knew by leaving whichever room I was in at the sound of the first note. His mood in New York lifted once Dusty made him his own chair using as a cushion the dumb IKEA pillow that he’s had since he was a smol kitten, thus creating the perfect window perch palace to watch pigeons from. He loved to eat roses and tuna. He made making any bed take 10x as long as he always instigated a game of parachute when putting the sheets on. He loved it when Dusty would create cozy nests around the house for him and tolerated the many times he would put clothes on him to make me laugh.
As he entered his golden years, George’s rambunctious appetite caught up to him and he contracted the kittiebetes (diabetes). He rocked his homemade t-shirts just as well as he rocked the bandanas he used to wear when he was younger, and he hardly noticed the shots we gave him twice a day for years until he went into remission. As an elder cat, he became significantly less grumpy, and still cherished his routines which included 5am meow wake up calls for breakfast and always greeting us at the door.
George was a real beauty with the best personality. I photographed him and our friendship every chance I got. I will miss his green eyes, the way he’d lick my face when I cried, and his comforting presence through some of my darkest moments. He was there for me through it all, really. Seventeen years of growing up through all stages of life together. He was there for the college parties and late study nights, the first jobs and the cross country moves, through times of heartaches or celebration, and chasing big dreams while building new families. He certainly helped ease the enormous amount of grief and change in our lives these last five years. His devotion to the routines that we shared together, the way he cared for me and seemed to know just when I needed a paw to my thigh, was love. And for that I will forever be thankful. He was the best cat friend there was and I will miss him dearly.
To George the cat, rest easy.