Lion and Magic Boy

You were the sleek one. I called you that because your brother, having all the fur and an elegant waving fluffy tail, was showier and I had to give you something.

You both hid for days after you first came home, just over a year ago. Here you are under the Ikea TV cabinet, which is where you two spent a lot of time at first. That’s you on the left.

Still, you were the inquisitive one. For months, every time I opened the refrigerator, you’d be there. Uh, in it.

You also found a hole under the kitchen cabinets, and I was afraid you’d get stuck in there. You didn’t. You also liked licking moisture out of the dishwasher every time I opened it. Whatever. We all have our eccentricities.

You and your brother Shadow had a love-hate relationship. Many a night I had to pick you both up under one arm and toss you out of the bedroom and shut the door because you thought it was playtime. The two of you would run from one end of the house to the other, over furniture, over people, up the steps and down, leaping down four stairs to the bottom, skidding a little on the wood floor below.

Shadow beat up on you a bit, eventually becoming bigger and faster than you. It didn’t matter, though, you loved him anyway. I think. But you tell me; were you enjoying this?

Yeah. No. Didn’t think so. You guys never really curled up together, not after you grew out of kittenhood anyway, and even then not often, although you did it here. I notice you’re not on top.

Typical. Like I said, you got beat up on a LOT.

Mostly, though, you were on my lap. Every time I sat down at the computer, you’d run and jump onto my lap, using all your claws. No one ever taught you proper Claw Etiquette, and I have the holes in my legs, 4,855,231 of them, to prove it.

Was it love? You never gazed up at me with those adoring half-drunk-with-love kitty eyes I have seen on other furry faces, but you did purr every time you jumped up near me. You purred a LOT. And loudly. I like a cat who’s not afraid to purr like that; you could teach your brother a thing or two about purring. I especially liked the purring at night when you curled up next to me, which is where you slept without fail.

I was your person.

But then you got sick, and with the sick came neediness. You couldn’t get warm enough, and you crept under the covers, under sweaters. Waiting. We renamed you Ninja, hoping it would bring out your Inner Panther, and you liked it for a few days. But you were already sick, and a new name wasn’t going to be enough.

Yesterday we had the fire on in the livingroom and your stretched out in front of it, looking the most comfortable I’d seen you in awhile.

And you had a virus that’s not treatable: Feline Infectious Peritonitis.  Sounds painful, and it looked painful. Your belly filled with a bright-yellow viscous fluid, and you couldn’t eat or drink. It was hard for you to breathe and you could barely walk. Cats who get this usually die quickly, in a few days or weeks.

But you crept right into the cat carrier like you knew where we were going today. You did know.

And it was okay. And they were gentle, and loving. I was still sad to see you go, even though I’ve known all week where you were headed, that you wouldn’t be getting better.

This, then, is what I want to remember. Goodbye, Nacho.