Seventeen years ago, Mr. M (not his name at the time) used to live across the street from me with people who didn't take very good care of him. Most days he would cross the street and come over to my house to visit, and he was always so affectionate and loving. One day he showed up with a serious eye infection, and I took him back across the street to show his owners what was going on. "You're going to take him to the vet, aren't you?" I asked.

"No, I just don't have time," the woman replied carelessly, in the midst of screaming at her kids. "It'll just have to get better on its own."

I was horrified by this response. "If you don't mind, I'll be happy to take him to my vet," I told her.

"Go ahead," she said. And so Mr. M became my cat.

As he had always been given to magical appearances at my house while he had been living with the other family, I called him Mr. M, short for Mr. Mistoffelees (from the play Cats). In addition to his loving nature, M was extremely intelligent. One day, when I accidentally shut him in the bedroom, M answered the phone in the room to draw attention to his plight. My friend, who was calling, nearly came over to my house to check on me, as all she heard in response to her hellos were loud MEOWWWWWs! When I got home and opened the bedroom door, the phone was off the hook and M was looking very satisfied with himself.

Mr. M and Growltiger

M lived with a large cat family; at one point, he had nine feline companions, most of whom lived to advanced ages (he is survived by 5 cats ages 11 - 17). While he was always easy to get along with, M also had an extraordinary ability to "be present" with his companions when they were ill or dying. Four years ago, his "brother", Cricket, was diagnosed with lymphoma at age 11. For two years, while Cricket was undergoing treatment, M would care for him in many loving ways: by cleaning him all over when Cricket was too ill to do so, or just by sitting quietly next to him in the sun spot near the sliding glass door. More recently, when his 16-year-old "brother" Ears was receiving radiation therapy for a brain tumor, M cared for him in similar ways. M understood the natural process of dying so well: he cleaned, snuggled with, and otherwise cared for Ears until Ears was very close to death; at that point, he simply sat next to Ears and was present with him, without interfering.

Mr. M and Cheese

M had the same ability to be present with me during the most difficult times of my life, including the death of my husband, which left me devastated. Quite simply, M possessed a beautiful soul, from which he radiated unconditional love.

Shortly after Cricket's death, M was diagnosed with diabetes and mild chronic renal failure. He was fifteen years old at the time. M was so cooperative with all of the treatments he had to receive on a daily basis: blood sugar checking and insulin injections twice a day, SQ fluids once a day (at first), and an increasing number of oral medications. He would actually come when I called him for blood sugar checking! Over the next two years M's health deteriorated further: he was diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease; his CRF worsened; and finally he was found to have severe restrictive cardiomyopathy. Despite his many illnesses, M never lost his loving personality, and continued to care and be present for his cat family, several of whom were elderly and very ill as well (Ears (16; meningioma and mild CRF); Cheese (17; hyperthyroidism, hypertension, and mild CRF); Prince (17; hyperthyroidism, mild CRF), and Growltiger (15; hyperthyroidism, CRF, hypertension, intestinal lymphoma, and hypertrophic cardiomyopathy)).

M passed away on May 10, 2002, from CRF and congestive heart failure. I am blessed that he was comfortable the last weeks of his illness, and that we had the loving support of all the veterinarians involved in his care. In his last weeks, he received the comfort and love from his cat and human families that he had always given to us. To the end, M was concerned with the feelings of others: he passed on in the way that was the easiest for me and for his cat siblings. In the last hour of his life, he became short of breath; with my veterinarian, I made the decision to bring M to the hospital to help him pass on, so that he wouldn't suffer. M decided to pass on next to me in the van as we were driving to the hospital, while I was playing special music, petting him and telling him that I was right there with him and how much I loved him. In the timing of his death, M spared Growltiger (who hadn't really adjusted to the reality of M's terminal illness and kept wanting M to comfort him) from seeing him pass on; as well, he spared me the heartwrenching decision of euthanasia.

What a blessing it has been to have you in my life, M! I will love you always and will miss you until we meet again, on the Other Side.

Susan Lawrence
catalyst@QNET.COM