Miles
Miles
1998?-2013
We found Miles in a tree. We'd been out for a walk, and there he was, meowing at us. Before I could say, 'hey it might not be wise to just approach strange cats like that', the Boy had picked him out of the tree and set him down. The cat meowed happily, and followed us home ahead of us (the slightly exaggerated length of the run was the source of his name). Every time he reached a corner, he'd turn and run down it several feet, then wait to see if we went that way. If we didn't, he'd dart ahead of us again. He did that all the way to and into our apartment. But then, horror! There were other cats there! This was not in the plan (apparently)! Sadly, we let him back out... and he promptly got himself treed in the middle of our courtyard, and covered in ants. The Boy extracted him again and let him back in. This time he decided other cats weren't so bad.
That first hiss was the only time I can remember Miles ever objecting to the presence of another cat. He was sometimes cautious at first, but he loved every cat; he loved every human. He wanted to explore everywhere he saw, and he was calm enough in cars that we put him in a carrier with Pushkin, who seemed to feel if Miles wasn't upset maybe he shouldn't be so worried either. He moved cross-country that way with us twice, excited to check out the new hotel room each night.
Miles and Push would cuddle often, grooming each other in turns until it turned into a tussle over who got to groom whom. It was adorable. Every time. There's no cat who wouldn't cuddle with him at least once in a while, even Sweetie. I always kind of thought of him as the heart of the clowder. He was clearly the biggest reason Little wanted to be here; she would stare longingly at him through the patio door, and once she was inside, she'd cuddle up to him and try to get grooming from him every chance she got.
At first, we thought he was kind of dumb. As time went on, it became clear that he was quite intelligent... just really laid back. You had to find things he was actually bothered by before he'd bother to try to change them. Most of all, he loved food. Cat food or people food; meat, the occasional chip, or especially dairy. Ice cream was his absolute favourite thing. If food came into the picture, suddenly he became a problem solver.
We were fairly sure he was part-Siamese -- no tipping, but he had the head shape and the voice, as well as the propensity to use it. He liked to chat with us, and he had a massive vocabulary of sounds, from little purr-chirps to big strident exclamations. Sometimes, when we gave him fresh water, he'd sing while he drank it, sounding like a murloc. One morning when karjack was visiting us in NY, she woke in the morning and headed out to the balcony for a smoke; the path took her past the cat tree, and Miles greeted her with a paw on the shoulder and a loud mrowl. Luckily, her heart was strong enough to withstand it!
He was a big healthy guy for most of his life. He had very slightly high blood pressure, and about two-three years ago he became hyperthyroid. He had radioactive iodine treatment, and about six months ago he was cured. But alas, not a feline superhero. Drat. He'd gained back the appropriate amount of weight and was doing wonderfully, right up until the night of the 12th. Then, after being given his usual BP pill, he started breathing oddly. It seemed as if he might have it stuck in his throat, but not enough to prevent breathing. Saturday, though, it was still not right, and then he mouth-breathed. That's a feline emergency, so immediately he went to the e-vet. He required oxygen, and it turned out the right side of his chest was full of liquid. No good indication of why. They drained it. Our usual vet didn't give much hope -- this is usually heart disease or cancer, apparently. She referred us to OSU for an ultrasound, but they didn't find anything clear. They did find that in 2-3 days, his chest had already filled up again. There wasn't anything to do but try prednisolone and hope it cut down on the inflammation and that that helped.
For a couple days, he seemed to be improving. And then he wasn't. The vets think it was probably cancer; they suspect it was there for a while, and simply became obvious that night. For the last few days we just tried to make him comfortable and happy, and gave him the food he likes, and cuddles, and took him out into the backyard. He loved that particularly. But he wasn't doing well, and we had to arrange an appointment to put him to sleep at noon, today. As we prepared to leave, he began mouth-breathing again. We moved as fast as we could, but before we could arrive at the vet, he was gone.
I wish he could have waited at least another half hour; I wish we could have given him a goodbye we knew was painless, in our arms. But I know that this morning, when he sat outside, and when he cuddled with us, he was happy.
Whenever i cried, he would come over and demand that I cuddle and pet him, apparently on the theory that it always made HIM feel better, so it must work for me, too.
It did.
Rest in peace, my BGB. You were an amazing cat. I miss you already.
Belatedly, hugs and thanks to everyone who replied to my last post. I'm sorry I didn't reply individually; it's been a hard week. But I really appreciated the sentiments. Thank you.