A Dieu Mordechai - Go Play with Bonaparte

Eight months into our marriage, Bonaparte and Mordechai joined the family. I had grown up with cats, my partner with dogs - so the compromise was one of each.

We chose Bonaparte first, a puppy the size of a full grown cat. I walked him through the cat cages of the ASPCA to see if he would bark at cats - nope. Then we saw Mordechai, asleep in his cage, regal even as a kitten - self-composed and strong.

I brought them home together a few days later. I had never had a dog before, but I knew that potty training was important. When we got home, I put Mordechai on top of the kitty litter and took Bonaparte for a walk. When we got back, I unclip Bonaparte’s collar. He promptly pees all over the kitchen floor. After I cleaned up his mess, I went to look for the cat.

Mordechai had used the kitty litter, navigated onto the back of the couch, and curled onto himself for a nap in a patch of sunlight.

They were brothers. They snuggled, they chased, they slept together. Mordechai would crouch into pouncing mode, hide in the foliage, and barrel into Bonaparte’s side when we returned from walks. Sometimes Mordechai would deign to join us - crossing big roads and looking down his nose at pedestrians.

Six years ago was made a bonfire for Bonaparte. I wept and snuggled with his warm body as he lost his ability to eat. We held him as his heart stopped.

Now it is Mordechai’s turn. His thick coat is threadbare, his bones protrude, he is in pain. For the first time in his life he is seeking us out for snuggles and cuddles.

Years ago, my mother remarked how disinterested Mords was in being held and stroked. I made a joke at the time that he was moveable art. A beautiful painting that would enchant you with its movements - surprising you with its beauty as it meandered through space, adding majesty and grace to a room. But not for touching.

Now, he sleeps on top of us, he creaks himself onto a couch and pushes himself onto our laps. He sits. He purrs. He lets us stroke his bony body and scabby head. He is saying goodbye. I weep.

Go with The Good my beloved Mordechai - A Dieu.* Thank you for spending your life with us. It has been our honor.

Have fun playing with Bonaparte.

*My Aunt shared with me recently that life is all about letting go. “You mean, surrendering your idea of how life should look because the Divine is in charge?”

“No,” she responded, “I mean letting go of all the people who die.”