Meet Muffin, remembered in this guest post by Valerie Giles Everyone who has ever loved a cat will relate to this experience. My beautiful little pet, Muffin, came to the end of her life. She was 18. Thoughts of remembering weigh heavy on me now as I think back over all the years. When I first encountered this noble creature, she was living in the alley behind a friend’s house in Vancouver. He started to feed her and was shooing away a grey cat until I discovered the situation. I realized that the lanky grey was her mate and insisted that both be fed and looked out for.
Muffin was a petite Manx cat – of the “rumpie” variety which meant she had absolutely no tail. Her coat was shiny black, punctuated by a splash of white at the chest and four dainty white feet. She had striking eyes – a beautiful jade green – that seemed knowing. I believed they reflected her intelligence and savvy which she demonstrated all her life. May 12, 1985 happened to be Mother’s Day, and Muffin celebrated by delivering a litter of kittens. Her mate, by then named Percival, stuck with her and guarded their family. As the kittens became mobile, he helped groom them and shepherded them about the yard. I couldn’t bear to part with any of them, so moved the entire family to my house. Then, the time came in 1993 when I was to move to Prince George. I informed my veterinarian that he was about to lose a lot of patients. He told me I was very lucky to be moving to a city where there is such a fine veterinary hospital. He photocopied the page out of his professional directory and circled “Olson Animal Hospital.” The records were transferred and we got ready for the journey. The scene at the airport was rather remarkable. Muffin and Percy were kenneled together, but each of their offspring (by then almost eight years old) was in his or her individual carrier. In preparation for boarding, they were stacked on a large transport cart and moved through the airport. Although slightly tranquilized for their comfort, they were wide-eyed as people walked up to check them out. We flew in a Dash-8 so they could be in comfort at the back of the cabin. The AirBC flight crew good-naturedly checked on them four times during the hour-long flight. The cats adapted easily to their new home. Dr. Olson recommended that I not let them roam because of my proximity to the highway and having a forest with wild animals across the street. They had been used to the freedom of acreage with trees to climb. I compensated by enclosing the back yard with a fence designed to keep them in. Wily Muffin was the only one who could climb the pales of the gate – the only place where a shelf didn’t overhang to impede her escape. An exceptionally companionable cat, Muffin needed the proximity of her mate. Together with one of their grown offspring, they slept curled in a tangle every night. When the weather was nice, the cats went outside as they pleased through two pet doors. Once a pond and waterfall appeared in the yard, there was the delight of playing with the water, which is a feature of Manx cats. Muffin would lie for hours with her head overhanging the little bridge as the water flowed by underneath. She also enjoyed watching the fish, but never tried to catch them. During long winter evenings, she was drawn to the basket by the fireplace. A few years ago, I was explaining to the sales staff at Spee-Dee Printers and Office Products that I needed a special kind of office chair – “one that has a back that meets the seat, so a cat can’t fall through.” They found the perfect one – and that was for Muffin. She spent many hours lying behind me as I sat at the desk. It was the perfect compromise when I had to work and she needed companionship and attention. Muffin enjoyed a lifetime of excellent health until recently when her intestines began to fail. She needed medical intervention, and removing all the blockage ultimately required surgery. She made it through but an hour later went into cardiac arrest. With all the expertise that could be mustered, she was given every chance. The kind and competent medical team worked for an hour to bring her back. After that, she endured two other episodes. Dr. Olson explained that the last one would most likely have been a massive stroke, and then they knew they’d lost her. My darling cat gave me a lifetime of unconditional affection. Her soft, rhythmic purr was a source of calming comfort many times along life’s path. I miss her terribly. - Valerie M.E. Giles, Ph.D. Originally published 24 March 2001 in the Prince George Citizen, and republished in Remembering ... A celebration of Prince George's Storied Past (2014, College of New Caledonia Press). Topics: cats, love, veterinarians, cat health, travel with cats
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