15 years ago, I met a cat with an unusual name, Much. She was the sweetest cat I could know. She also was a very willful cat. My husband told me when he first got her as a kitten, he put her into the downstairs family room to spend her first night. Instead she squeezed through a bannister, found her way up to his room and promptly commandeered one of the pillows. There she slept for 2 years until I moved in with another cat who did not want to be friends and took over her pillow.
Yet, Much learned to live with this cat and be loving towards me (though my husband was the center of her world). She didn't fuss at age 12 when Petunia passed and we gave Much a kitten named Lucy. Instead she allowed Lucy to adore her. As Much grew older, we were scolding Lucy to stop wrestling with Much while they were waiting to be fed. We finally realized that it was Much who started the matches, not Lucy. When we got Carly, she didn't blink an eye and tolerated Carly's grooming for very short periods (by short I mean 2-3 licks). Even towards the end when Carly would do a head butt that could knock her over, Much never was upset. She would get up and move a foot away. I don't think I ever heard Much hiss.
Much loved bringing us things, socks, sweatshirts, anything she could find to drag. I couldn't leave clothes in a basket because she would drag half of it out. Sometimes we would find a sweatshirt wrapped around a stair post and could see that she really had worked hard on dragging it downstairs. As she grew older, I left small towels around so she didn't have to work so hard. And Much would announce very loudly that she was coming with something for us.
She loved to be a lapcat. If someone was sitting, then Much expected this person to supply a lap. I don't know how many times I was watching TV and suddenly realize that Much had taken residence on my lap or she would be patiently waiting until I settled down so she could get her lap. Towards the last couple of years, she would yell at me until I sat down and provided the lap.
Finally, Much was a tough cat. She suffered UTIs 1-3 times a year and had a precancerous mass the size of a grape removed from between her shoulder blades when she was 10. Yet she persevered through all of the vet visits, patiently putting up with the carrier and the vet. She could though disappear when she heard the carrier and it would take me 15 minutes to find her as she figured out how to open cupboards. She did protest very loudly in the car. Even in the last year, as a tumor slowly grew around her lungs, she allowed me to give her steroid shots and pain meds in her nose to treat pancreatis so we could have a few more months. Today, it was obvious that the tumor was too big and would only cause her worse suffering. It was time to let her go.
Much was the Grand Dame of the household. We all revolved around her. She was the one who took over the middle of the bed, snuggled up to Lucy or Carly and slowly push them over in the chair so she had most of the room. But she did all so gently that we didn't ever mind.
Much will be missed. Farewell, sweet girl.
Yet, Much learned to live with this cat and be loving towards me (though my husband was the center of her world). She didn't fuss at age 12 when Petunia passed and we gave Much a kitten named Lucy. Instead she allowed Lucy to adore her. As Much grew older, we were scolding Lucy to stop wrestling with Much while they were waiting to be fed. We finally realized that it was Much who started the matches, not Lucy. When we got Carly, she didn't blink an eye and tolerated Carly's grooming for very short periods (by short I mean 2-3 licks). Even towards the end when Carly would do a head butt that could knock her over, Much never was upset. She would get up and move a foot away. I don't think I ever heard Much hiss.
Much loved bringing us things, socks, sweatshirts, anything she could find to drag. I couldn't leave clothes in a basket because she would drag half of it out. Sometimes we would find a sweatshirt wrapped around a stair post and could see that she really had worked hard on dragging it downstairs. As she grew older, I left small towels around so she didn't have to work so hard. And Much would announce very loudly that she was coming with something for us.
She loved to be a lapcat. If someone was sitting, then Much expected this person to supply a lap. I don't know how many times I was watching TV and suddenly realize that Much had taken residence on my lap or she would be patiently waiting until I settled down so she could get her lap. Towards the last couple of years, she would yell at me until I sat down and provided the lap.
Finally, Much was a tough cat. She suffered UTIs 1-3 times a year and had a precancerous mass the size of a grape removed from between her shoulder blades when she was 10. Yet she persevered through all of the vet visits, patiently putting up with the carrier and the vet. She could though disappear when she heard the carrier and it would take me 15 minutes to find her as she figured out how to open cupboards. She did protest very loudly in the car. Even in the last year, as a tumor slowly grew around her lungs, she allowed me to give her steroid shots and pain meds in her nose to treat pancreatis so we could have a few more months. Today, it was obvious that the tumor was too big and would only cause her worse suffering. It was time to let her go.
Much was the Grand Dame of the household. We all revolved around her. She was the one who took over the middle of the bed, snuggled up to Lucy or Carly and slowly push them over in the chair so she had most of the room. But she did all so gently that we didn't ever mind.
Much will be missed. Farewell, sweet girl.
