Sunday, September 24, 2017


These goddamn blogs don't...get...any...easier.

This may be the hardest one yet for me, because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.  For the first time ever, a pet died before we could even get it to the vet.

Mooch was...there aren't words for what Mooch was. I can try. I will try. But you had to live with this animal to really understand.

Where do I start? Studies have shown that both dogs and cats do recognize their names; when you say a dog's name, the pleasure center of its brain lights up like a pinball machine. When you call most cats, they recognize your voice...and they'll come if they think there's something in it for them. Otherwise...forget it.

Mooch was different from day one. Say the word "mooch" within his earshot and he'd come running. Every time. And expect cuddles. Every time.

If you stood still and looked down at Mooch, you might not even have to put your hands on your calves for him to extend himself upwards and beg to be picked up. He would purr fit to split, head butt you with authority, out for the snaggletooth! Those head rubs could get downright painful in their fervent earnestness. LOOOOOVVVVEEEEE MEEEEEEEEE.....

We were going to make him a therapy cat. That's how much he loved people. He loved rubbing up against us so much he had no whiskers on one side.

No, here's how unusual Mooch was. You could give him pills without the slightest bit of complaint. Oh, a treat? Thank you Mommy/Daddy.
one of his favourite places
one of his favourite creatures. We miss Tux, too.
Oh, are we taking pictures?
Goodnight cuddles. Very important.

At bedtime, before Dolly arrived here, anyway, Mooch would always beat you to the top of the stairs. He would cuddle all of us in turn before slinking off to stand watch. And after a long hard night of doing that (interspersed with several hour long naps, because hello? cat?), you'd find Mooch all curled up with his brother, Bubbles: 
That cushion they're on? Mooch would spend minutes pawing at it, kneading it, trying to find a nipple on it. There was something heartbreaking about this futile quest of his; Eva would never let him go for long. Then he'd go and lick Bubbles' butt, and we'd all chorus, "quit licking your brother's butt," 

Life in this house.

Mooch was the most utterly submissive cat I've ever could flop him around, carry him upside down, and he'd just look at you all doe-eyed and purr louder. It didn't matter if you were a Mommy, a Daddy, a Mark, a Tux, a Peach, or a Dolly. Mooch was there to please. 

Yesterday he took up residence in the basement and we just thought he was under the weather a bit. This morning we couldn't find him at all, until they did--I was at work when I got a text saying Mooch was paralyzed. Very shortly after, he was gone. 

I'm not sure we're going to replace this one. Mostly because I don't think we can. Our Mooch-muffin was one of a kind. Absolutely nonpareil  among felines. And now he's gone.

This one hurts.

1 comment:

karen said...

oh Ken. My condolences you to and Eva and Mark. It is so sad to lose a pet.