Guardians of the Grain: The Next Generation
"Eat. Play. Nap."
Long Live Louis
“When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade, without further introduction.”
—Mark Twain
My cat Louis would have turned 20 today, so on this occasion, today’s LAST CALL dispatch is filled with felines.
July 31 was his birthday, or his “Gotcha Day” in cat ownership parlance. I first met him as a 2-year-old cat on this day in 2005 at PAWS Cat City in Seattle, where the former farm cat from Mill Creek, Washington, had been turned in for adoption less than 48 hours before my arrival.
We spent 16 of his 18 years together—from Seattle to Brooklyn, a cross-country roadtrip, and four different apartments. Each year we celebrated his birthday with a tradition of a can of Cento oil-packed tuna, a jumbo bag of treats, and a new toy (he was especially fond of the catnip-filled stick of dynamite kick toy).
This September will mark two years since I had to say goodbye to him. I know some might think that’s a long time to mourn and miss a cat, but I still think about him every day and miss him terribly. We had an amazing, extended run together, and I’m so grateful for all the time we had together.
I wrote about more about Louis last year in “The Long Wondrous Life of a Cat Named Louis.”
On that last Friday night we spent together, while waiting for the Lyft to arrive to take us to the ER, I held him close and walked around the apartment to let him see some of his favorite things one final time. I knew this was going to be a one-way trip. Louis would not be coming back home with me ever again.
Over the past 14 years I’ve lost my father, brother, mother, and several good friends, but adjusting to life without Louis was a new level of soul-piercing grief I wasn’t prepared for. The loss, the empty apartment, the endless, painful montage of his last week, last day, last hour, last moments as I held him in my arms wrapped in a blanket crying and thanking him and telling him how sorry I was and how much I was going to miss him as he took his last breath.
