27 05 2010

Milo was a soft ginger cat who was incredibly majestic. Looking back, I think he was one of the most lovely creatures I can recall. When my dad would throw things at him, because he didnt like cats, poor Milo would forgive him and seek his love rather than fear and shun him. And when dad decided he liked cats afterall, Milo welcomed his affections with open arms. And that made dad happy.

When darling Mesha the dog got overexcited upon seeing him, her tail would spin around like crazy. She’d run up to him, putting her heavy paws all over his head and licking the shit out of him. Milo would simply use his claws to gently restrain her, before giving Mesha a big lick and a kitty cuddle. Mesha would get crazy excited just to have me call out to Milo, because she loved him so much.

When Milo was in your bed at night and you accidentally kicked him or rolled on him or moved him somewhere, he never complained. He just found a better spot near you and nestled as close to you as he could, and he would stay there until morning when the cat nip was brought out, and his great love of food – second only to his family – drew him to the kitchen. He would sit for hours in front of that food cupboard, only mewing occasionally and unobnoxiously.

He was gentle and mature, standing upright and puffing out his chest like a proud lion. Lazing about int he sun all day, and his constant enviable leisure time only increased with age, but regardless, his childishness never faltered. To the very end, he would chase stupid bits of string, attack the couch, and as much as he pretended to not like it, play tackle with the kittens we often set loose on him. Yes, Milo had to deal with several kittens. In his old age, he had 4 seperate little cats arrive at our home, and Milo, though curious, never attacked or hurt those kittens. Never did he try to act dominant or grumpy like most other territorial felines. Milo was too sweet for that. The main kitten he shared a life with was Oscar, whom he heavily nurtured, played with like a youngen, and cuddled up to frequently. Oscar very obviously thought of Milo like a parent and a close friend. Yet another animal who loved Milo more than I can say.

Milo could always make you feel loved, and even if his continued affections were annoying and even, quite literally, a little smothering, he was so beautiful, so accepting, so affectionate and welcoming to any and all kinds of family and attention… Something about him was comforting, as if it was not only his desire for attention that drew him to you. I have known no other cat like him.

Milo died yesterday. He was almost 18 years old. He was a beautiful cat. He was a wonderful friend. I hope he went peacefully, and that he knew how much we all loved him.




One response

27 05 2010
Liz Talbot

That’s beautiful, Bonnie. I have to say it brought a tear to my eye. You’ve captured the behaviour of a special cat perfectly. Our Kitty died when she was twenty-one years old, and nothing could have filled the void when she passed on. I hope Milo was able to just gently go to sleep.

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