Maggie's goodbye

March 23, 2001

When I was a kid, I wanted a cat. Very much. We had a dog, and I had several hamsters, a few gerbils - but I still wanted a cat.

So when I moved to Philadelphia, my mother indulged me.

We went to a pet shelter and I scoured the cages, hoping for either a black cat or a Siamese. There was one black cat - a female - but she was a drooler, and we didn't really hit it off.

As I walked around, my mother noticed that one particular kitty was very fixated on me. This cat stared at me very intently, and every time I approached her cage, she'd step forward; when someone else came near, she'd retreat to the back of her cage.

After watching this a few times, Mom nudged me. "Hey...go see that cat."

Obviously, this kitty didn't even remotely come close to what I was looking for. But I asked if I could pet her..which led to my holding her..and as the song "I Keep Forgettin'" came on the radio, I realized that I had been chosen by my first cat.

On the ride home, she "told" me her name: Maggie ("Magistrato" as a nickname)..

Maggie was supposedly around 3 years old in 1988/89. My mom's cat, Sophie, initially hated her; but within a few weeks, Sophie had adopted her.

Maggie has always been a great cat. Lots of character in this fuzzy body. She used to have baby-leaf-green eyes that would cross when she was excited. If she was mad at me...she'd go chew on a photo or a book of mine (she had an uncanny ability to know what was mine and what wasn't). She made her preference for a clean litter box very early on by waiting until she had the attention of both me and my mother, then peeing deliberately (but scantily) on a carpet in front of us. She has killed exactly one mouse that I know of - and then hid it in my bedroom amidst my books. She has never tried to hurt me, however. Through shots and car rides and baths, she handles everything with grace and an amazing good nature. (Well...except for baths...she squirms desperately in the sink, wanting to get away, but never cries or bites or does anything except squirm.)

She has always stayed an alley cat at heart. When offered can food, she sniffs it, looks at you, very deliberately gags, and then walks away. She'd much rather have CHICKEN - but she'll settle for cheesesteak, McDonald's bacon, muffins, or - as Maura discovered - crispy green lettuce.

She loves men. Whether it be Ken's coat, Chris's chest, Chuck's arm or Berzerker's thigh, she's always made her preference very clearly know. This cat is definitely straight.

When I was at my most depressed, Maggie helped me stay grounded. When I've felt the most alone, she'd be at the foot of my bed, purring. When my life got too chaotic and Jim told me, "Maggie is very mad when you're not here," I gave her to my mom for safekeeping for about 3 months...and I don't think I could ever do it again.

Jason adopted a cat named Aragorn in the late 1990's, and Aragorn tried very hard to be physically closer to me than Maggie was. After Aragorn died, Maggie adopted some of his habits, and started sleeping by my side, under the blankets with me. (And she has a very cold nose.)

Jason commented to me one morning, "You know, you and your cat snore in rhythm! I turn over and I watch the two of you curled around each other, snoring away...It's kinda cute."

For about 3 years, Maggie lived pretty much exclusively in our bedroom, because the other cats tended to pick on her, and since I'd had her declawed, she really couldn't defend herself adequately against another cat. (Against dogs..now, that was a whole other ball of wax! She quickly became a bluff master - an uncontested title she earned after scaring Nancy's two dogs right out of my house last October..)

As I've written elsewhere, Maggie was diagnosed with feline diabetes a few months ago. After a lot of thought, I decided to start her on insulin. I've learned a lot more about Maggie in these months. Things like, she's much older than I was initially told - probably currently close to 18. She has arthritis. She still loves car rides and men. She's a rare cat at the vet's office - Jeff, the vet tech who's been caring for her, says she steps out of the carrier for him, allows him to take a blood sample without needing anyone to hold her for him, then returns to her carrier.

But as one bottle of insulin empties, I've decided it's time to let Maggie rest. She looks so tired and thin; her eyes are perpetually infected; her arthritis makes her uncomfortable; her diabetes makes her feel constantly slightl nauseated. I love her too much to want her to suffer.

Today, Jason will sit with her while she goes to sleep for the last time. I'm amazingly grateful to him for this; and to her, for being in my life. She's been more than a pet...she's been a comfort and a friend. I am being a coward in not staying with her myself...but I hope she'll forgive me.

I'll never forget her.