I feel like I have to apologise for yet another obituary in this blog. And I feel as if I have to apologise as I am sure that the vast majority of you have never heard of the individual who died and he had nothing in particular to do with pop culture (the central theme of this blog). But he was very important to me and has been central to my life the past few years. To wit, my cat Monster died last night at the age of six. Given the fact that heart disease tends to run in Maine Coons and his symptoms fit that of a heart attack, I believe that he died of cardiac arrest. Unfortunately, no veterinarians were open last night, not that I am sure he could have been saved anyhow.
I adopted Monster when he was all of six weeks old from a family friend. Her cat, a pure breed Maine Coon, had given birth to a small litter of kittens and she was giving them away. We chose the only male out of the litter (which was only three kittens), a cute, little bundle of yellow fluff. We believe that Monster's father may have been a pure breed Maine Coon as well. I remember when we took him home. I had to hold him all the way in the car; he was meowing loudly, no doubt distressed at being separated from his mother and sisters. He was a very loving kitten from the beginning. In fact, he wanted to sleep me that very night, but my old cat Patches wouldn't let him.
Monster was a rambunctious kitten, always getting into everything. That was the reason for his name--he behaved like a "little Monster." I remember that he tormented old Patches to no end, although I think she really didn't mind the attention. I also remember that as a very young kitten he had fleas so bad that for awhile we worried that we might lose him. Fortunately, we found a flea and worm treatment that restored him to health.
And Monster was a fairly healthy cat. He grew up to be about 20 to 25 pounds. He loved to play to the very end. He would play with our other cats. Oddly enough, he did not care much for expensive toys--his favourite thing to play with was the strip from old milk jugs. He was also fairly intelligent. He house broke himself, although he preferred to use the great outdoors to the litter pan. We had to do his business, he would scratch at the door like a dog.
Monster was also a very loving cat, perhaps the most loving cat we have ever had. He liked to curl up on us and be petted. And oddly enough for a cat his size, he liked to be picked up and carried around. He would sleep with us frequently. The entire neighbourhood loved Monster. He would visit them and let them pet him and play with him. In fact, the neighbourhood is taking his passing as badly as if he had been a human being, perhaps more so.
Even as he got older, Monster remained a very loving cat and a cat who enjoyed playing. In fact, it is hard to believe he was gone. Just last week he was playing with the younger cats. Yesterday morning he played with my youngest niece. Age did not seem to slow him down much.
At any rate, I cannot describe the pain I feel right now. It might seem silly to some of you, but I fear I am mourning Monster's death more than many human beings I have known. I feel in many ways like someone has just taken a part of me and ripped it from me. Right now I would give anything to hold him and pet him and hear him purr once more. I know I will always miss Monster.