Personal posting

I apologize for this personal posting but yesterday I lost my crabby old man, Chairman Mao. I came home from work early yesterday because I had a migraine that I just couldn't take anymore after 5 days of blinding pain. I walked in the door and Thor and Sophie, the little dogs I'm fostering, greeted me as usual. But there, laying on the kitchen floor, still as a mouse, was my little love, Mao.

Mao had been very sick in the last year and a half. His body was just getting old before it's time due to many illnesses in his past. I'd seen him through it all up to this point. We'd been together for almost 12 years. All of my vets have 2"-thick files on him. His last battle was with a digestive issue where he was unable to absorb all the nutrients that entered his body. He ate all the time but lost ounce after ounce after ounce. My once robust, brick-shaped alley cat was down to a frail and fragile 6 1/2 pounds.

But as frail as he was, he was still The Chairman and could strike fear into the hearts of dogs and cats alike. Of the 20 or so foster dogs I've had in the past year, not a one has been able to get to him - quite the opposite, he ruled the dogs with an iron paw. I have photographic evidence of him holding dogs at the linoleum line of demarcation at the kitchen where the dogs would whimper and bark in fear until I came and relieved Mao from his guard duty post. Mao was with me in Galveston, Miami, Ft. Myers, Jupiter, and Port St. Lucie and was a constant source of nuttiness and joy. I called him my crabby old man because, well, he was. But he still shriveled down into the sweet, purring mess of a kitty when I found that spot under his neck he just couldn't ignore as he paw-peddled his way onto 87% of my pillow every night.

Even though I came home yesterday - my body must have known something was wrong - I didn't make it in time to save my boy. I picked him up and held him close to me, his body was still warm and limp so I tried breathing breaths into his chest - I felt his lungs expand and deplete, but there was no response. I knew he was gone but I drove him down to my vet, who was very kind, for him to take a look at him and see if he had any thoughts on the ultimate cause of his death. There was no blood on Mao, the floor, or the dogs. There was a little bit of Mao's fur scattered on the floor but that could have been from after he died and the dogs were sniffing and pawing at him? I want so desperately to believe that his little heart just gave up while laying peacefully on the floor and he laid his head down to rest forever.

My heart is broken. I miss you, my little old man. Your spirit will always be with me. And with all the dogs that are still in doggie-therapy after their Abu-Graib days with you.