Sunday, April 17, 2011

On a Day When We Did a Thing We Did Not Want to Do

Some 14 years ago the first employees to arrive at the Aurora Veterinary Clinic were greeted in the parking lot by a cat, little more than a kitten. There was no sign of an owner, and when they opened the clinic door, the cat just moseyed in like he had no particular place to be and this place was as good as any. He needed a home and we had a cat shortage at our house so we took him.

After much discussion he ended up being named Mosey, aka Moseymoze, aka Mozambique, aka Beek, aka Schmosey, aka Fatty. His rap name was Mo Z.

His main goal in life was to get out of the house. He was the only cat we have ever made wear a collar, which had an ID tag. He was also microchipped. He would sit near the door waiting for someone to come in so he could slip out. And no matter where he was in the house he was ever vigilant for the slightest error on our part, and would exploit it unfailingly. We learned to be very good at thwarting him, even to the point of letting the door slam in the faces of people (teaching our children bad manners in the process) just so he would not get out, but that just made him more determined--and innovative.  He would go days without trying, lulling us into carelessness, then would watch out the window until we had our hands full of groceries or something, when he knew the door would be open a little wider and our attention would be on negotiating the doorway with eleven full bags, and out he'd slip. I cannot count the number of times a child cried, 'Mosey got out,' and we had to chase him across the yard and into the woods with a bag of treats, which he could not resist.

Once we had to lure him off the roof with a can of tuna. Another time he got out at 5 A.M. when I was on the way to have surgery. It was February and he climbed to the top of an evergreen.We left him and eventually he climbed down.

His other favorite thing was to lie in the sun.

















He was handsome, with a brilliant white blaze under his neck, and he never started to look old until a few days ago, when he looked alarmingly so. We discovered a large mass in his belly. He had but days left.

Yesterday turned out to be the day.

"Mosey looks uncomfortable to me."

"Yeah."

Unfortunately we've had a lot of recent experience with the passing of pets. We're good at it, but that doesn't make it easier.

We pulled the cat carrier from the closet, put on our shoes, and got in the car. But before we left, Robin took Mosey outside and set him in the grass. The sun had come out as if just for this moment. In days past he would have bolted but this day he chewed on a piece of grass and purred. 


My wife didn't want to bother the other vets so she did it herself. We laid him on a comfortable bed on the exam table. I held him there while she gathered what she needed. She showed me how to hold him just so while she administered the drugs. He purred until his heart stopped.

For 14 years, when going into the house the ingrained thing to do has been to open the door, scan for Mosey, then shut the door quickly. In the 24 hours since he's been gone I have come to understand this habit will not fall away soon. I can think of no way to better remember him.



4 comments:

  1. Ouch.

    It always hurts, John. But he was one lucky cat to have 14 years with you two.

    And you've just written him a fine farewell.

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  2. That was a beautiful tribute, well told, as usual. I'm sorry for your loss, John, but I know that Mosey was in the best hands. His life was better for having known you, and vice versa.

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  3. Nice post. Been there and appreciate the sentiment. I'll be sad when we lose our rotten, well loved cat, Padfoot. Hopefully he has many years left of sitting on Stephanie's head (in bed) when he wants fed in the AM, crawling up on your chest while you work, and slowly inching his nose up to your face so he can bite your chin.

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  4. Your Mosey sounds (and looks) like our Hosey (Hoser), who slipped out just tonight when I came in with bags of groceries. He ran after our yard bunny into the trees, and Ian finally managed to get him to come out with the magic word: "Food."

    I'm sorry to hear about Mosey. He sounds like the kind of cat whose missing presence would be painfully noticeable. But what a great time he must have had with you for all those years.

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