Christine Kaye McCutcheon was born on September 13, 1966 in Saint Louis, Missouri to Mary and Francis McCutcheon. She passed away on April 26, 2023 at the age of 56. She is survived by her partner Donald "DonDon" Morris, her sister Sharon Chibnall and brother-in-law Matthew Chibnall, her nephews David McCutcheon Daniel Chibnall, and her niece-in-laws Valerie Meerschaert and Alison Looney. She was preceded in death by her parents, Mary and Francis McCutcheon, and her sister, Pamela McCutcheon.

She considered the Morris family as part of her own. Within the Morris clan, she is survived by Michael (Marion) Morris, Kenny Morris, Sharon Morris (Bill) LaGates, Charlie (Donna) Morris, Richard (Heather) Morris, and Steven (Ruth) Morris. She was preceded in death by her father- and mother-in-laws William and Shirley Morris, sister-in-laws Sheila Morris and Rose Kelly.

We invite her family and friends to celebrate Chris' life with us on June 25, 2023, at Blake C. Snyder Memorial Park (9801 Green Park Rd, St. Louis, MO 63123). A starting time is still being determined. Contact Don Morris to purchase memorial T-shirts in Chris' honor. In lieu of flowers, please consider making donations to her GoFundMe page to help fund her death and memorial expenses, or the St. Louis Humane Society.

Chris was, at her heart, a crazy cat lady. She loved every single cat that she ever saw, and she had many great cats throughout her life. Spider, Woody, Mister Hat, Tony Twist, Ms. PJ, Jim Jim, Leia, Shaquille, Mudda Buzz, Chico Barnes, Katie, Tucker, Ty Chibnall, Scrappy, Jacqueline, Khloe, Kenny, and Mr. Bear were all made whole by the love, care, and patience she afforded them throughout their lives. I often thought that she survived so many near-death experiences towards the end because it was her cats giving nine lives back to her. 

She had so many friends, and she was always thinking of them all. She hung around with bikers and went by "Porkchop" in those circles, and she always had such deep respect for that way of life and the people she knew in it. She always took camaraderie with her friends at the lake, and the G Girls group that her sister, Pam, was also a part of. Her mind was a mental Rolodex of stories associated with her people, and she had an abundance of funny tales to share to anyone who would listen. She had so many inside jokes that it was hard to keep track of them all--and that's just the ones she'd have with you, let alone everyone else she knew, too.

One of the many things I miss the most about Chris is her ability to take mundane situations that had no comedic value whatsoever and make them hilarious. She was so creative, even more than she ever imagined--and she was always self-aware about how funny she was. She never had a driver's license, and she never flew, yet she trekked all across this country and knew the roads--from local shortcuts down side streets to major interstates and where they connected in states she'd only been to once--like the back of her hand. Before we had Google Maps or Map Quest, we had her, and she was always just a phone call away whenever you needed her guidance. 

She was the consummate buddy. She would tag along or bring you along to just about anything you wanted to do. She loved going to concerts and St. Louis Blues hockey games. I am so grateful that she got to watch the Blues finally win their first Stanley Cup before she passed away. She always knew what was going on around town, too, warning you about traffic or bad weather, letting you know the openings and closings of restaurants and retail shops in the area before the owners themselves knew for certain, or so it seemed. You'd always get some news tip when talking to her. She was always so sarcastic that it's hard to imagine living life without her comments on little things that made them that much funnier. Since her passing, I find myself wondering what she would think about random events at least a couple of times every day. I know I'm not alone in that respect.

The one thing that it seems everyone who knew her and loved her shares is that they can't understand how to process the fact that she is gone. Despite her body failing her, between the diabetes and kidney failure, the infections and the heart disease, she always stayed so mentally sharp. She never acted like a woman who was in her final months of her life--speaking to her would give you life. Somehow, when someone is so witty and warm-spirited just hours before they leave us, it can seem impossible to accept that they're gone. I am very thankful that she was always herself, the person we all loved and cherished, until the very end of her life. Not everyone is afforded that sense of self, but she was herself to the very end.

Not everyone can be so lucky as to know someone like Chris. We should all be grateful that we knew and loved her, as she did us.

Send to someone

Share this obituary with others

https://everloved.com/life-of/christine-mccutcheon/obituary/

Copy