Ode to a Cat

I don’t normally write about animals, but this one was pretty special in our family.

Myron. A yellow tabby that, for most of his 12 ½ years had a weight problem. I suggested the name as a joke to my then-girlfriend Emily, but she liked it and it took. (I also suggested that since his name was My-ron, the next cat should be named Your-on. Emily did not like the suggestion.)

When Emily got Myron, he weighed one pound and was only 4 weeks old. He wasn’t using the litter box and wasn’t eating, so Emily took him in for his free first vet visit that very weekend. We learned that he had not been weaned and didn’t know how to eat. Rather than returning him to be euthanized, Emily took on the task of teaching this frail little kitten how to eat. In return, Myron thought of Emily as his mother. It was not unusual at all for Myron to get up into her face and, using his raspy tongue, lick her nose, as though he were preparing to nurse. He did this as well to me, because I was around so much of the time, but mainly to Emily.

And he did learn how to eat! At one point, Myron weighed over 20 pounds. My oldest daughter took over a year to weigh more than the cat. Myron loved to eat and made sure you knew it.

Myron was also a very loving cat. When my wife had spent nearly a week at the hospital worrying about her father who might or might-not die, she came home for the first time and crawled into bed, and there was Myron, snuggled up as close to her as he could be. He seldom left her side each time she was home during that period.

When Emily’s father finally came home in a wheelchair with tubes hooked up and needing constant care, Myron would frequently get into Bob’s lap and just lay there, purring and letting Bob stroke him. Myron would purr. And how he could purr! He would purr at the slightest thing or bit of attention. He would do this for hours. He continued to do this until Bob died in 2003.

Myron loved our children, too. When Madeline came home, Myron was always checking on her, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. Between the influences of him and our second cat, Baxter, Madeline’s first word was “meow”. No kidding. She called him "Mow-on" for a couple of years. Deanne calls him Kitty Myron.

And on it went. Myron moved with us twice and adapted. Four and a half years ago, Myron was diagnosed with diabetes. We were told that we might get two good years out of him. Myron beat those odds.

When I took my new job and moved to Iowa during the week, Myron helped keep the family normal. But perhaps the impending changes were too much for Myron. This summer, while on the way home, my wife called me frantically telling me that Myron was seizing and she was on her way to the Animal Hospital. Myron had a very low blood sugar and had gone into seizures. The doctors said he may not ever recover. He did.

When Emily was hospitalized for five weeks, Myron had another low blood sugar late one night and seized again. I called Emily on our cell and she and I worked on Myron for two hours, and we could not seem to make a difference. We said our goodbyes and I wrapped up Myron in a blanket, turned on some soft music, made him as comfortable as possible, and went to bed. At 5:00 a.m., I woke up to go check on him and he had recovered, moved out of the blanket and was resting at the bottom of the steps. He was still very slow for the next few weeks, but he was a survivor. When Emily finally returned home, Myron really perked up, going back up and down the stairs as his usual self. He even got a chance to “kiss” the new baby.

Last Saturday, Myron had two really low blood sugars within hours of each other. He was not eating and therefore not needing his insulin.

Last night, at 4:00 a.m., Emily called me. She was taking Myron to the vet. Myron was very weak and Emily decided that he had suffered enough. I’m going to write this because one day, my daughters might read it. She took Myron in and the vet gave Myron some medicine to relax him and Emily said goodbye to him. By the time the second dose of medicine got into his system, Myron was gone.

Emily and I debate as to whether there is an afterlife for pets. I know that if there is, I hope Myron has found a good place. His gentle nature, ability to tolerate children, caring and love for nearly anyone he came in contact with are certainly going to be missed in this one.

Thanks for reading.