Mimi

She came into our lives as a surprise. We weren’t in the market for a new kitten but as she gazed out of the blanket in the doorway of the Humane Society, a tiny gray striped face, we couldn’t help but fall in love.

So Mimi came home with us and stayed for 15 years.

An indoor/outdoor cat, it always seemed that Mimi wanted to be where she wasn’t. Balanced on the narrow rail outside the back door she would stare at me as if willing me to open the door. Once in, she’d sweep through the house, checking her favorite nooks, and having learned to let herself out, she would push the porch door open just wide enough for her sleek gray body to slip back outside. She would balance on the windowsill outside of the front porch window as we sat on the porch, meowing as if to say “hello, can’t you see me? I want to come back in now!”

Mimi was a hunter, felling chipmunks, bunnies and birds from an early age but fortunately, never bringing them to the door to present to us. She was a private cat and kept her hunting quiet, making us squirm as she’d toy with an animal that most certainly would end up as a meal. Neighbors would ask if she was available for hire, a natural predator to keep their gardens free of pesky rodents.

But Mimi was a free agent. She went where she pleased when she pleased, whether lolling on the neighbor’s patio, much to the dismay of their indoor cat, or blithely loping across another neighbor’s yard, causing them to call the local police and having her picked up and tossed in the clink. There seemed to be no taming Mimi…

…and yet…

she would rub up against our legs with an audible purr. She would relax into our arms, cradled like a baby with her legs all atangle and eyes meditating at half mast.

We were a team, Mimi, Kyrie and I. Every night when Kyrie and I would take our final walk around the park, Mimi would follow along, slipping in and out of the shadows, yowling if we left her territory. On longer walks I would coax her along, and free spirit that she was, she’d follow at a distance so as to appear disconnected but letting us know when we needed to slow down and wait.

When Mimi suddenly stopped eating recently and dramatically lost weight I checked in with the vet and there, in her stomach, was a mass, an aggressive tumor that would surely take her down soon. And so, together with the vet, we decided that it was time for Mimi to go, rather than allowing her to linger in pain. There, on my living room floor, we gathered around Mimi, caressing her tiny body, and telling her again and again what a good kitty she was. Kyrie rested quietly by her side. And with the vet’s help, Mimi quietly and peacefully passed.

Courageous hunter, curious explorer, free spirit, Mimi we miss you.