The story of Myles

 Last week we lost our much loved cat Myles.  All pet deaths are hard, sometimes just hard in different ways.  The hardest, perhaps, are those suffering a decline such as kidney disease.  At some point their suffering will exceed their quality of life.  But there is no red line to determine when that is and our love for them often betrays them.  We will do anything to keep them when the most merciful thing to do is allow them to go.

With Myles it was congestive heart failure.  He has always had a heart murmur and he had been losing weight for a couple of months.  Contrary to his outgoing personality, he became lethargic.  One morning, he woke hacking.  Then the panting.  Clearly in distress.

 

Took him to the vet, expecting the worst and indeed any intervention would be greatly stressful to him and with low prospects for success.  And then the hammer blow.  We are always with our animals when they pass.  But not under Covid-19 restrictions.  A wrenching circumstance only mitigated by the care and tenderness of the vet himself.

 

Farewell to our Myles.  But our memories are anchored in his living, not his passing.

 

Sometime in middle school, my daughter extracted from me a foolish and ill-considered commitment that she could get a cat of her own among the clowder which usually abounds.  The deal was something along the lines of an incentive.  Some task she needed to achieve which would be good for her but seemed such a stretch as to be unlikely.  In a fit of naïve absent-mindedness I committed to the challenge.

 

And of course she delivered whatever the improbable challenge was.  A rueful reality check for me.  Joy and tidings for my daughter and wife (for whom there is always room for one more cat.)

 

What was doubly unexpected was the campaign mounted within a couple of weeks.  Sonja the kitten was lonely among all the lazy adult cats.  Sonja really needed a companion.  He will be youngest son's cat. 

 

A campaign which in its time was successful for the usual reasons.

 

So daughter, youngest son and wife cheerfully make their way to the local shelter to acquire yet another kitten.  Sonja is a rather socially selective cat so she is brought along to field test candidates.  The only one who passes muster is a small fluffy white, brown and black rag doll.  Sonja tolerates him or even a bit more.

 

After the lengthy selection and quality testing process, it is a little before shelter closing time.  The happy band make their way to the front desk to take care of the paperwork and pay. 

 

There is a crisis.  Unexpectedly, they do not take checks.  And their credit card reader is on the fritz.  Cash only.  Wife searches her purse and comes somewhat close.  Kids turn out their pockets.  Closer.  They are sent to search the car for lose change and come back closer still.

 

At which point the volunteer, perhaps seeing a highly committed family, fishes out the remaining dollars from his own pocket.  The volunteer is named Myles and thus is the kitten named for him.

 

Myles came home and blossomed.  In size and personality.  A big boy and a big character.  There was not a rigid bone in his body.  He was like a sea cucumber, able to fit anywhere in any shape. 

 

In good time, he became King Cat of the clowder, an especially benevolent king.  He was good with people, with children and with dogs who were always fascinated by his large shape, fluffy form and forward manner.

 

He wandered the neighborhood, acquiring a reputation for entertaining behavior and friendliness.  At Halloween, neighborhood children arrived at the house clamoring to see The Cat. 

 

He was not above lording it over others.  One of his more obnoxious but amusing habits was to roam in front of a house with indoor cats perched in the window.  He would throw himself upon their lawn, rolling around in the grass, warming his expansive stomach under the sun, receiving attention from the home occupants.  All under the steely gaze of the homebound cats.

 

In his declining years, one of the young male cats, Mr. Darcy, was eager to take Myles's place as King Cat.  It got to the point where he had the strength to do that.

 

Except that Myles was a cunning King Cat.  Myles reached an accommodation with Ethelred, a good natured and wise cat.   Ethelred functioned as vizier, running interference with any challengers such as Mr. Darcy but in turn deferring to Myles.  Myles remained King Cat to the end through this crafty alliance.

 

And now he is gone, leaving the usual hole in the heart when happy animals pass.

 

But a whole filled in part by eleven years of wonderful memories of a big-hearted, bold, confident cat who was a bit of a card and endlessly affectionate. 

 

A sad farewell with a moist eye and a smile of memories.