It was love at first sight.
( 1st pic of Mia II at home)
Anita and I were out running errands and as she went to Bed Bath and Beyond, I went a couple stores down to PetSmart to get a bag of dry cat food for our two cats, Z, aka Mr Zeepers and Jazz, aka Kitty Kitty.
(Z aka Mr Zeepers)
(Jazz, Aka Kitty Kitty)
Well you can't walk into PetSmart without looking at the cats they have available for adoption. I scanned the windows and boom, there she was. The world stopped. My eyes were gazing on the most beautiful creature.
She didn't have much interest in me or anything, relaxing in her little cubicle. I didn't even look at her name or bio, I just knew I had to have her. I snapped a photo with my cell phone and sent it to Anita, saying, "you've got to come see this cat." And while she was responding, "I'm in the checkout I'll be there shortly." I was already texting, "this cat is coming home with us."
By the time Anita arrived, I'd paid the $50 fee and was purchasing a pet carrier to transport Mia home. We call her Mia II because Anita had the original Mia, a beautiful white long haired cat.
(Anita and Mia)
Mia II had been "surrendered" by her previous owner. She was four years old which was the same as Mr Zeepers. We got home and let her out of her carrier. We soon gathered that she didn't like to be held and the other two cats came to investigate the newbie. Mia scampered off into our spare bedroom and into a closet. I set her up in that room with her own litter box, a food and water dish. The other cats didn't pursue or seem to care much.
Mia spent three weeks in her own room. Occasionally venturing out when we were all relaxing in the living room watching some prime time show on TV, the other cats resting on the couch with us. Mia would look around the corner, she was so small and so quiet. Like the poem by Carl Sandberg, "Fog."
"Fog rolls in on little cat feet."
She'd survey and if nothing was moving, she'd inch into the room, checking in all directions. We'd notice and if anyone moved, she'd go back to her room. We wanted her to join us. So we learned to not even breathe heavy.
Gradually, she made her way onto the back of the couch and if we moved, once again she'd scamper away. But little by little she got used to her new surroundings, even joining us out on the screened deck I'd built and that the other cats loved to go on and watch and listen to the many birds in the back yard.
(Mia loved to bask in the sunlight)
When Mia was finally pretty well situated, we moved... Our little family of Anita and I, with a dog and three cats packed up and moved to a much larger home on a lake. As the furniture in the old place disappeared over a few days, the cats were wondering what in the heck was going on so we decided to just bring them out to the new place and we figured Mia would find a closet and be out in a week or so. But much to our surprise, on the first evening after unpacking some of the stuff, while relaxing in the living room, all three cats were lounging about with us, like they'd been there their whole lives. We were relieved. Mia was finally in her forever home. In fact, all three of them were as well as Scarlett the best ever Black Labrador. (Anita always says I bought the house for her and chose the yard for Scarlett, whose absolute most favorite thing ever was "get the stick" tossed in the lake.)
Much as I do with my wife, I never lost the joy my heart felt admiring Mia II. She was quiet and had some quirks like we all do. She didn't want to be held but loved to curl up next to me. She loved to be pet and she followed me to bed every night and would purr in my ear, wanting attention.
Mia II was our special needs child/furbaby. She had seizures and bounced off furniture and walls like a pinball. We tried medications and paid good $$ to find relief for her, but it wasn't until we stopped giving her flea treatment that her episodes became few and far between. At their peak, she had three in one day. She had them usually about three times a week. She'd be sleeping peacefully and the next minute she'd look like an acrobat flying around the room. Winding up in a heap pulsating with gagging sounds violently. We'd cover her with a blanket until she recovered. Her pupils would be dilated and any movement or sound was amplified and caused her to jerk in reaction. She'd meow and walk around re-familiarizing her self then find her food bowl and chow down a bit then find us and want some attention. It was one of the rare times you could pick her up and hold her.
She never liked to feel trapped in any way shape or form. Holding her was one. She would wait and use the litter box at night when everyone else was asleep. We'd hear her and on the rare occasion it was in the day, if another cat walked in or we walked by, she'd fly out of the litter box like a bolt of lightning. She'd tend to that business later. I often said maybe we should have named her Squirt, because she'd squirt by like a flash of light. We don't know what happened in her previous life. If she experienced some trauma that caused this behavior and or her seizures. We just loved her and appreciated the loveliness she added to our home.
She was the smallest of our cats and the quietest, except her purr. She had the loudest purr. Like a diesel engine. It was comforting, soothing. She and Anita, with those beautiful blue eyes and quiet demeanor were so therapeutic for me, Mr Fearless and Chaotic was learning to appreciate, "chill."
Mia would always seek to be near me. She'd bounce from one couch to the other if I moved across the room. She'd lay on the couch part nearest me if I were eating a meal at the table. She'd curl up next to me, I think her absolute favorite place to be, if I were on the couch. She'd follow me into the kitchen, morning, noon and night. As though I went in there for the express purpose of getting her favorite treat. If I were busy preparing a meal, she'd wait patiently, tail wrapped around her feet and haunches. When I'd head for the fridge, she let out a "Mayo." "Maaaayo." Which eventually became, "MAY-O!"
She wanted her little dab of mayonnaise. Hah, who'd ever heard of a cat wanting mayonnaise? I offered salmon and tuna juice, ham and cheese. All the things the other cats liked. Nope, not Mia, she wanted her Mayo. Anita would snicker from the other room. And yank my chain about "somebody" having me trained.
Scarlett passed in December of 2016.
Kitty Kitty passed in February of 2017.
Mr Zeepers passed in September of 2017.
Here are the earliest photos of them.
So for a short while, Mia II was an only furbaby/pet/child.
But Anita was grieving her Mr Zeepers who died without warning on September 8th, from the same tragic Saddle Thrombus, within weeks I couldn't stand to see Anita grieving so much and I had to remedy the issue.
Ever the fixer am I... On Sept the 17th we got...
(MoonDance and SugarFoot, aka Jack and Diane.)
from F.U.R.R. in Charlotte
from F.U.R.R. in Charlotte
Mia was accepting of the new housemates... In her special way, she comforted their intrusion into her uncomplicated life.
So yesterday, Mia's last day as a soothing part of our household, I was absolutely wiped out. I'd missed breakfast because early yesterday morning Mia suffered, as did Mr Zeepers, from a sudden and deadly Saddle Thrombus. I thought I could get her to the vet quick enough to save her. Her feet were cold and her gums were blue. She was dying rapidly after we arrived. The vet put a heating pad on her and she expired peacefully. I was home and making lunch at 2pm. We had supper at 430pm. I showered and sobbed throughout the day. My eyes were blood shot and dry. I couldn't pay attention to what was on TV or read. I went to bed at 8:45pm.
I was up this morning at 3:45am. Missing Mia. I fed the two cats who now get a can of wet food split two ways instead of three. I picked up the one thing that was exclusively used by Mia, a scratch pad. It was gouged out on catty-cornerd ends as was her habit.
It amazes me how the quietest and smallest of things seem to make the biggest impact. I'm crying again this morning, not by choice. I'd rather be over the grieving. I miss my little Mia. I wish I could have done something to save her. Anita says I did, that I gave her the best years of her life. I understand and accept that. I just hurt. I hurt deeply. I didn't know this would be my response. I didn't grieve as fiercely with the others. Possibly with Scarlett. But with Scarlett I'd made a decision about her quality of life and chose her end. It was loving and responsible. This was unexpected and sudden.
I'm in shock. Once again my eyes are bloodshot and at times I can barely breathe. My chest feels a void as it heaves in anguish. My throat is wanting. wanting to call out her name and see her come padding towards me. She always responded to my calls. Always...
Not any more...
I write for therapy primarily. You put a period at the end of a sentence that expresses a thought/feeling and usually you can move on.
I wanted to write today to give justice to Mia and the impact she had on my life. She hit me like a wrecking ball and enhanced my life. When she sought my affection I felt successful and grateful.
If another cat wanted to tussle with her, I'd defend her and run them off. She was kind and gentle. She wasn't a fighter. If another cat wanted to hog her food, she'd let em. I'd notice and make up for it. But I learned to stand guard while she ate and fend off the others. No bullying in my house. Not on my watch. I'd grown up with that crap. Nothing irks me more than a bully.
So, on this cold winter morning, my first without Mia, a fog is fading on the lake as the sun wrestles to break through the gloomy clouds and warm this day. I begin to let go, here, now, as I write. Knowing I did all I could to give Mia all of me and she gave to me her precious life and love.
Others need attention...
But Mia... You'll always be the star of my show... forever 💓💓💓💓
You simply take my breath away
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