Miccio the Cat, 1998–2009

My oldest cat died this weekend. Miccio was almost 11 years old, not old for a cat. For those of us that knew him, we remember him as a rather large presence, a proverbial fat cat. And he was fat, weighing in at approximately 22 lbs. for most of his adult life. But Miccio was more than that.

He was my first cat. Adopted from a neighbor when he was little more than 6 months, he came to us in a cardboard box with a blanket. His name is a anglicization of the Italian slang for calling a cat (“Mish, mish”). He was shy at first, then proceeded through the new kitten routine of checking out the house. That was 2 houses ago for us. He was very feisty in his youth, happily chasing after the red dot. At one point, he even was horizontal on the wall, parallel to the floor, and one and a half times his height high on the wall chasing the red dot of the laser pointer. He hid, he sulked, he knocked his water over. He played, suffered indignities (Santa hat on his head for one of our early Christmas cards,) and lazed happily on my lap when I came home from work.

When Miccio was five, he was rewarded for his loyalty and fealty with a younger sister, my beloved familiar Lucy. He suffered her quietly, and occasionally engaged her in her kitten games. At one point, perhaps out of frustration, the much larger Miccio sat on kitten Lucy in an effort to show her who was Alpha. All that could be seen of Lucy under Miccio's girth was her kitten head poking out from underneath him.

Miccio was always a very well behaved cat. Apart from a few minor incidents over the years, he was very respectful of his keepers, never annoying, and extremely tolerant of my young daughter's (and later my son's) playfulness.
When we moved from our last house to our current, it seemed that Miccio didn't want to go. In one of my dumber moves, I thought Lucy should arrive to our new house first and alone, so that it could be hers first, and Miccio's second. By the time the rush of the move was ready for Miccio to join us, he was nowhere to be found. The new owners assured us that they had seen him and allowed us to keep coming back for a week to catch him and bring him home. Finally, he was lured out of hiding with a can of tuna and my very patient (and very upset) wife.

Miccio was better at coping with the addition of our new kittens this past Christmas than his younger sister Lucy was. However, he took to spending his days in seclusion more than ever. In his final days, we only saw him in the morning and at night. On his last night, the ever faithful Lucy spent some time with him, snuggled up beside him in the hall closet, sensing the finality I am quite sure. And on his final morning, he seemed to be taking a tour of things he'd never forget, pausing at my drumset in the basement, looking at the windowsill he favored in warmer weather.

When it was finally time, at the vet’s office, I stroked him and spoke to him honestly. I sensed that he knew, and he was ready to go. Miccio passed quickly, and for that I'm glad. He will be remembered always, and I love him dearly.

Goodbye Miccio. Have fun in Cat heaven.