*Moblin January 2019 – June 2021

When my mother asked me if I wanted a cat, I told her no. Still, she gave me a cat. She snuck him into my home inside her jacket, released him upon my living room, and handed me a half-empty box of kibble. But Moblin was a blessing. I’ve been given many blessings in life that I didn’t deserve, and Moblin was certainly one of them.

Every time I think about Moblin, I think about how I took for granted how I was certain I’d have him for 18 years. How I looked forward to watching him age. How I spent so much private time with him in the early mornings. How I had a short temper with him when he’d piss on my novel, or my artwork, or my bed. Because he was the most honest critic on the East Coast and frankly nothing was up to snuff—he was the only one bold enough to tell me. Now I wish I could pull apart every blanket and basket of dirty laundry and be set to re-wash them for the rest of my life. I miss him so much, even the parts that were hard about raising him. Because he was my little boy.

In his last hours we sat and watched a storm roll in. He wanted me to hold him. He spent most of his time on my chest. I would caress him, and call him “Baby” and with the end of his weakening tale strength his tale would sway and wrap around me. When he was a kitten I’d call out “Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby Mooooooobliiiiiiiiiiin” and he’d hustle over on his light feet, 3 mittens and one long sock, a tuxedo chest, beaming greenish eyes, and a little white chin. The cutest meow, the silkiest fur, and he’d cuddle in a ball on the couch with me, where I slept, because I couldn’t afford a bed. I couldn’t afford a cat. Ultimately that’s what stopped us from being able to save him. The vet wouldn’t offer us any extensive care to try and save him unless we could come up with 2 grand at 3 am immediately. They made my husband leave the office, our cat spitting blood and barely breathing, to go to a Quick Check ATM so that we can take out the 700 dollars they needed to put him to sleep. I turned the lights off in the office while we waited, and I held him, and sang to him, and apologized for failing him.

I have so much guilt, but having a cat’s life cut so short, 2 of the 20 years he deserved, is a Hell I’ll never forgive myself for allowing to exist on Earth. I miss my boy with everything in me. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give him more. I don’t even know what went wrong, just that it happened so fast.

Hold your family a little closer tonight, for me. I hope Moblin is truly at rest, it’s the least I could hope for. But he deserved more. He deserved better. And we didn’t deserve him.


  1. No matter the life span of our pets– they are family. We’ve had several pets. One of our cats died of a urinary tract problem after 2 yrs. Our last cat was 22. Yet we miss them both– especially whenever something inside our house or out in the backyard reminds us of their special moments. So sorry for your loss.

    Liked by 1 person

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