Some days, some feelings are very hard to describe. 
How do you encapsulate eighteen years of inter-species friendship? How do you describe not being able to 'fight nature', when someone looks at you with incomprehending eyes?
It's an awesome power, to be capable of taking one in pain, in poor health, whose many happy years are behind, and be able to take that animal to a beautiful office, with a sympathetic (and pretty) veterinarian, and inject the medicine that ends all the pain, for one, and brings forth the memories, for he who remains...
Mégane came from Denver Colorado, where at eight months old she was liberated by the ZEN
Central Liberation Front, whose nonviolent 'assault' on the Denver SPCA was a raging success.
Mégane we named her, the ex-wife and I, but this cat was 'mine': she wasn't 'sexy', wasn't 'glamorous' was certainly an alley-cat of the finest caliber.
What she was, was the cat who ran straight to my ankles of the ten or twenty in the room. I was one who thought a cat that found me, was better than a cat that I 'picked'.
That was true, then and always since. Mégane was the cat to whom I belonged. She was a survivor: without going into details, a friend's wife once slammed my apartment door just at the 'SECOND' in which Mégane thought that the atmosphere was rather charged: her skull was in the wrong plane at the wrong Cat-second, and for the rest of time, most tall blondes were not allowed access to Mégane's heart (with one notable exception).
She joined Montgomery, aka Gumi-boy, aka the Gumsterboy, in a period of wander lust.
From CO to NH, in a three-day truck-oriented adventure, we four went off to law school.
After the divorce, after the diploma, the Boy and Girl followed ZENmud to France, for a three month interlude that began with love, and ended with reality. They flew in the Captain's Cockpit, in a Sabena flight from Boston to Geneva, via Brussels: they really didn't like that...
From France, a border crossing to an
apartment with garden, idyllic and perfect for two cats and a guy with bicycles.
Such Eden-Years were not eternal, as the Gumsterboy became deathly ill in the heatwave of 2003. His illness raged in three days, and Mégane-bébé was by his side, as sad and hopeful as one could expect.
It was my first experience with the power of the 'Death Penalty', live, in my face, my decision.
It's 'so convenient', that it can break your heart. Look at the photo-montage of Gumi's last weekend. When that upper-right photo was seen after the events, it brought so many tears: how can a cat be asking the Gods to spare her companion?
Sniff.............
Montgomery: 1991 to August 3, 2003
Mégane-bébé: 1991 to June 2, 2009
Thaaaat's all Folks....
How do you encapsulate eighteen years of inter-species friendship? How do you describe not being able to 'fight nature', when someone looks at you with incomprehending eyes?
It's an awesome power, to be capable of taking one in pain, in poor health, whose many happy years are behind, and be able to take that animal to a beautiful office, with a sympathetic (and pretty) veterinarian, and inject the medicine that ends all the pain, for one, and brings forth the memories, for he who remains...
Mégane came from Denver Colorado, where at eight months old she was liberated by the ZEN
Central Liberation Front, whose nonviolent 'assault' on the Denver SPCA was a raging success.Mégane we named her, the ex-wife and I, but this cat was 'mine': she wasn't 'sexy', wasn't 'glamorous' was certainly an alley-cat of the finest caliber.
What she was, was the cat who ran straight to my ankles of the ten or twenty in the room. I was one who thought a cat that found me, was better than a cat that I 'picked'.
That was true, then and always since. Mégane was the cat to whom I belonged. She was a survivor: without going into details, a friend's wife once slammed my apartment door just at the 'SECOND' in which Mégane thought that the atmosphere was rather charged: her skull was in the wrong plane at the wrong Cat-second, and for the rest of time, most tall blondes were not allowed access to Mégane's heart (with one notable exception).
She joined Montgomery, aka Gumi-boy, aka the Gumsterboy, in a period of wander lust.
From CO to NH, in a three-day truck-oriented adventure, we four went off to law school.
After the divorce, after the diploma, the Boy and Girl followed ZENmud to France, for a three month interlude that began with love, and ended with reality. They flew in the Captain's Cockpit, in a Sabena flight from Boston to Geneva, via Brussels: they really didn't like that...
From France, a border crossing to an
apartment with garden, idyllic and perfect for two cats and a guy with bicycles.Such Eden-Years were not eternal, as the Gumsterboy became deathly ill in the heatwave of 2003. His illness raged in three days, and Mégane-bébé was by his side, as sad and hopeful as one could expect.
It was my first experience with the power of the 'Death Penalty', live, in my face, my decision.
It's 'so convenient', that it can break your heart. Look at the photo-montage of Gumi's last weekend. When that upper-right photo was seen after the events, it brought so many tears: how can a cat be asking the Gods to spare her companion?Sniff.............
Montgomery: 1991 to August 3, 2003
Mégane-bébé: 1991 to June 2, 2009
Thaaaat's all Folks....
