O Gentle Cat
O gentle cat,
How shall I part with thee…
when you are not in my delighted eye!
How shall I eat when
you are not beside
to share a bit? How shall I ever sleep
While I no more your
lulling murmurs hear?
–James Thomson, Scottish poet (1706-1748)
A LETTER TO MUCHO
My dearest Mucho, my Moochy Man, my Moochy Moochy Mooch, my Mr. Pooka Man, my Plush Pooka, my Muchissimo Cat, my Little Cherub! You were my fat old Pooka, my Snagglepuss, my smooshy old sock, my old plaid blanket. I have no other cats like you. How will I live without your amazingly loud purr and your fine set of whiskers? Didn’t we have wonderful naps together?
You were in the backyard when we bought the house, a pitiful, runty, coarse coated stray. You snuck in the deck door once to snitch some food, and I decided to see what you were like (you were so small, I thought you were a girl!), so I shut the door. All hell broke loose. You ran straight up the wall, back down, shot up the stairs to the loft, then ran back down where you sat on the bottom step panting, trying to figure out what to do. I got a good look at you. It was obvious that you were a stray—-dirty and underweight–and that you were terrified at being trapped inside. I waited about two minutes, then quietly walked over and opened the door. You were gone like a flash.
Time passed. You kind of hung out with Hunding on the roof of the studio. I was back and forth to Germany, and Daniel’s niece Melsina came to stay one February and did some landscaping in the backyard. She spotted you and saw how you came up on the deck to eat food. She called you a mooch. When I came back from Germany, I decided to call you Mucho, because you were putting on a lot of weight!
I think we had been in the house for about a year, because I remember it was June when you showed up with an abscess on your forehead. I also noticed that you had all sorts of scabs on your stomach. I can’t remember how I got you into the carrier, but I must have tamed you enough to where I could pick you up, because I didn’t trap you. The abscess was cleaned out, you got all your shots and got neutered, and a test revealed you were FIV positive. I decided to bring you home anyway and get you as healthy as possible.
Daniel was furious with me. The only place to keep you during your recovery was in his study. You smelled dreadful. (It took months to get the cat urine smell out of there!). I remember sitting in the rocking chair and cradling you in my arms while the anesthetic wore off. You began to purr. We bonded right then and there.
Your forehead had a rubber shunt in it to drain the abscess, so you had to stay inside for several days before returning to the vet to have it removed. Dr. Holden looked at me for a long moment when I told him I was planning to return you to the yard. I knew FIV cats are not supposed to be released back to the outside, as it endangers other cats. I decided you wouldn’t bite anybody. You never did.
When we returned from the second vet visit, I took a deep breath and opened the deck door. You were off like a shot. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Four days later, you came back inside, curled up on the bed, and that was it. Daniel was even more furious, but being the trooper he is, he helped me spray Bactrin on the scabs on your stomach. I remember asking him which task he preferred: Holding you or spraying the medication on your tummy. He elected to do the spray. So I stretched you up to expose your stomach and Daniel got the funniest look on his face as he aimed the spray at the various scabs on your belly! After a few treatments, you took it in stride. You were always really good about taking medication. As time went by, you blended into our little family. Lacey and Payton ignored you. When Puff joined us, you ignored her. And that was just the way of it.
You still had a bit of a feral streak in you in those early days. I was reminded of it one night when I was sitting at my computer, and you jumped up in my lap. I thought, oh how lovely, I’ll just turn you over on your back and schmooze away with you. Well, you didn’t think much of it and, as I buried my face in your stomach, you clapped both front paws around my head and dug your claws in! I waited until you retracted your claws and carefully extricated my head from your grasp. Scared the hell out of me!
I didn’t try that again!
More time passed, and your personality began to assert itself. Your love of food, particularly tuna, became very apparent. You got even fatter. When I was sitting on the sofa, I couldn’t help but laugh at the view from behind when you walked from the dining room into the kitchen.
Your purr was loud, long and deep. Your warm rumbling weight was delicious comfort at night on the bed. You snored, or breathed heavily when you slept.
You loved parties, and schmoozed with anyone sitting on the couch. When Kristin stayed with us and slept on our couch every night, you were in heaven. You always greeted my voice students and demanded rubs and pets,
and they obliged. Over the years, you developed some funny quirks. Winding the cuckoo clock was a particular talent. One of your most irritating habits was going out in the morning, taking a dirt bath under the St. Francis statue, then coming back in and walking in the shower (licking the floor!), making MUD, and then tracking muddy paw prints on the bathroom rug! Arrrrgghh! You did love the garden, and had many little hidey holes. I think you were happy there.
We loved it when you escorted us to the hot tub at night, and then became our Tub Guard, taking up a position on top of the filter, your magnificent white chest turned blue in the light. My Blue Man.
You loved to have your chest rubbed and your paws stroked. They were like little rabbit feet. I loved your little pink toes and your little pink nose. When you started getting scabs on your nose, I spent half a year rubbing Vitamin E oil on it every day. You tolerated a lot.
Daniel grew to love you, too. He said he related to you because of your relationship with food. He said he could understand it. You kept him company when he did his stretches on the floor of the study in the morning. You eventually joined him, stretching out beside him and purring away. You were always good company. When he got his lace-up orthotics, you decided he needed help with them and straightened out the laces for him every morning.
As various medical conditions began to appear, you were very patient with us. There was the stomatitis in your mouth, the extensive dental work (14 teeth pulled at once!), the cardiomyopathy, and ultimately the cancer on your nose. I decided that we would do our best,
but no extreme treatments.
It became difficult for you to jump from the lower deck to the upper deck and come in through the cat door. Getting up on the bed was an effort, but you always made it. You became more affectionate with each passing year, curling up with whoever was taking a nap, purring and stretching out a paw to push on the slumbering cheek. You were a good boy.
After Lacey left us, you and Caruso would sleep at the foot of the bed, and at the first sign of my stirring in the morning, you would both move up in tandem, one at my right shoulder and one at my left, purring as loud as possible. I would murmur, “My boys…” and scritch you both. It was like a contest: Who can purr louder?? You made me late for work all the time. How could I leave you?
When I watched TV, your place was at my right thigh. You were happy there. And that’s where you were the night before you left us. All was right with the world.
Both Daniel and I had a lovely moments with you the night before you died. Daniel was lying on the kitchen floor looking out the window and watching a baby possum eat the cat food on the deck. You cozied up to Daniel, settled in and purred loudly, “Isn’t she a lovely baby?”
Then you must have joined me upstairs, because when I put on the video cat sitter for Salome, you were on my lap watching her go nuts. I took pictures of her, with you on my lap in the foreground. “Christie’s World” was how I titled one of the photos. I finally quit taking pictures and went over to the computer to download them. Salome continued to watch the video, except she jumped off the footstool and went around the back of the TV, the better to get at the tantalizing creatures on the screen. You jumped up on the footstool and watched for a half hour. Then you came over to me and wanted me to help you onto my lap. We schmoozed for a while, and then I went to bed, leaving you upstairs to sleep.
The next evening, I came home from work and walked into an emergency. The house was quiet, “Where are my babies?”, they all appeared and then—-your distressed howl from the loft. You heard my voice and knew I would come to help you. All I remember is struggling to find the number for the emergency vet, grabbing the carrier, loading you into it, and then that harrowing drive down Folsom Street. You howled, I cried and told you it would be all right,
over and over again.
I’m so sorry you left us so quickly, and we didn’t really have time to say a proper good- bye. It happened so fast, there was no time to think. I just couldn’t bear that you were in so much pain. I loved you too much to let you suffer.
We miss you very much, Pooka. We’ll always remember your silly little spirit. You were part of our odd little family, and you were very, very loved.