A requiem for Mr. Black

Mr. Black, aka Mono, died this evening. Over the past month or so he'd almost stopped eating and had dropped from six kilos down to about three. He was otherwise normal, just lost interest in eating. I took him to the vet about five times and they couldn't figure it out, the last time they thought it was probably renal failure, something with the kidneys, I guess. I dropped him off at the vet on Monday morning to have the cat dentist take a look at him, we thought it might be some problems with his teeth or jaw that was keeping him from eating. They held on to him for a couple nights to watch him, and he went downhill. I'll always feel sad that he died in the vet all alone.

He was a good cat. He meowed way too loud and non-stop. He could never get enough attention. Anyone willing to stop for a minute and pet him was a friend for life. He was almost twelve years old, which is old, but not necessarily past his prime. I got him in Mexico City where he'd been abandoned with two of his brothers as a kitten. He lived there, then in Ho Chi Minh City, Washington, DC and Virginia, and finally in Bangkok. He liked Virginia the best where he could go outside whenever he wanted and root around in bushes and chase birds and squirrels. During the summer he practically lived outside. He was an outdoor cat at heart who had to live inside most of his life, and I'm glad he got that chance to be a real cat at least for a few years.

Mr. White's still around and looking as good as ever. He eats mostly wet cat food now and has put on some weight. I'm not sure if he realizes Mr. Black's gone for good.