IN MEMORIUM: MONGOYA

April 6, 2004 - June 12, 2004 Mongoya was the runt of the litter. He didn't know that though. The first time I picked him up, he meowed loudly. Anytime I tried to sneak the new kittens away from their mother he would meow and give us away. I called him "loud mouth" and swore I would give him away as soon as I could. HA! Hyper Boy fell in love with him because he was the only one that looked like Morticia, his mom, which before Goya was born, was Hyper Boy's favorite cat. Mongoya was the first to open his eyes. He never had any problems with his eyes like the other kittens. Anytime you looked at him you were greeted by these bright, bright eyes. He reminded me of Hyper Boy when he was a baby. Goya was the first to walk, the first to find a way onto the waterbed, the first to dive for the nip when Mommy laid down. He was the first to die. He developed diahrrea last Sunday. He lost complete control of his bowels. I began the force feeding of kitty Kaopectate. I researched feline diahrrea and found that most of the time, there is no known cause and no known cure. How disheartening. I fed him a bland diet of chicken and broccoli. This is how I found out that some cats love broccoli. He was well enough by Wednesday to scale the couch and dive feet and head first into my broccoli cheese omelet. He growled like he had never eaten before. This seemed to have restored his appetite and I monitored his food intake and made sure he was drinking. On Thursday though, he had backslid. I noticed his stool had become loose again. He followed me everywhere and wanted to sit on my lap or shoulder. Friday evening, he sat quietly on my lap and even on my shoulder. I had seen him eating and drinking earlier. But when he sat on my shoulder, his feet were cold. He was never a big kitty. Always the smallest of the bunch. He was now skin and bones. I watched his eyes for signs of dehydration. There were none. Saturday morning, about 1:30 a.m. I walked past the couch to turn off the lights for bed. He was dozing with his mother and his brother and sister. He raised his head to look at me. Later in the morning, I heard Hyper Boy go outside and I got up and followed him. He went in the house and brought out Goya's sisters. We talked to our neighbor and then went inside to fix breakfast. I was in the kitchen when I heard Hyper Boy. He said, "Mommy! I think Goya's dead." I turned to find my him holding Goya's limp body. I took Goya from him and the wailing commenced. My boy was devastated. I was too. I had seen the signs of impending death. I knew his body was too little. But I denied it. Had it been his older brother, Napoleon, he probably would have survived but he was just too little to start with. Now that I think about it, Goya never seemed satisfied. Although he ate as much, or more, than the other kittens, he never grew like they did. I don't believe he suffered. He was too vocal to have allowed that. I believe in the warmth of his family, his soul simply drifted away. For such a little fellow though, he had a large personality. He greeted not just myself and Hyper Boy at the door like dog, he also wagged his tail like a dog. He greeted my neighbor when she came to do laundry and demanded love. He followed us like a dog, always demanding love. And we gave him love. I miss his little body sitting on my shoulder as I sit at the computer. He was the first to purr. I remember dipping my hand down beside the bed and feeling his tiny two week old body purring. I was in wonder that something so small could be so content. He was spoiled and rotten. For me, I am amazed at how that little loudmouth that I swore I would give away the first chance I got, wormed his way into my heart and then broke it. I haven't lost a pet to death since 1994. I take that back, I have. Boo-Boo, my old black Manx that lived with my parents died a few years back. But he was old and had lived a good life. Ivy was my chocolate lab. I had to have her put to sleep at the tender age of 3 due to throat cancer. I haven't loved a pet like I loved her since...until Goya. Ivy was headstrong and hyper and tested my patience until I thought I would pull my hair out. When I had Hyper Boy and year and a half after her death, I was amazed at how much alike they were, especially as Hyper Boy grew older. He too has tested my patience again and again. She was good practice. I can only wonder if Goya wasn't practice too. A pre-cursor to what may come. A little loudmouth that drove me to distraction, but who only wanted love and attention. And when he got it, he was quiet and content, loving and peaceful. 66 days is not a long time to be upon this earth. For us, it might as well been 66 years. He was born with personality and spunk. He loved us and we loved him. He never wanted for anything while he lived. He shall never want for anything ever again. If he ever feels hunger, he'll eat broccoli and cheese. For their part, his mother has sulked all day. His siblings have stuck close to me and Hyper Boy, as though trying to fill his void. As though they grieve with us. Our dear Mongoya entered this life April 6, 2004 and departed over the Rainbow Bridge June 12, 2004. He is survived by his mother, Morticia, his brother, Napoleon, sisters, Lola and Ireland, his Aunts Natasha, Hermione, Kumba and Timbers, companion kitties, Smokey and Ozzy and by us, his human family. We love you.