Eulogy for a Cat

The Life and Times of Mouse "Mouser" Robertson (1991-2007)

Like many cats, Mouser was born. His grey coat and unproportionately large ears (that he later grew into) had earned him the name "Mickey" amoung the family to which he was born. When a young Nathan Robertson came to take a look at the kittens, young "Mickey" knew that he had found a friend, a sort of kindred spirit or BFF. The two bonded instantly, and, against every fiber of his being, the cat was named after his hated enemy, "Mouse".

Many years they spent together, going through all the ups and downs of life. But from almost being eaten by foster children to being separated when the now adult Nathan moved downtown, the two never lost the romance. Mouse was never far from Nathan's side. The two of them, completely secure with their sexuality, slept in the same bed most nights, and always managed to work out their disagreements with patience and open dialogue.

Interesting facts about Mouse: He had a sister from the same litter named Hannah, who went with Nathan's surrogate father when his parents split up in 1999. In his younger years (and for most of his life) he was, indisputably, an asshole of a cat. He would bite a nose if given half a chance, often in one's sleep (as Nathan found time and time again, when he woke up with a bleeding nose). Moreover, he would take it one step further and play mind games, sitting at the foot of the bed of children who had taunted him earlier that day and using his notoriety as a "nose biter" to keep them awake and nervous all night. He really didn't like kids. Also of note, he lost a chunk out of his right ear and his right fang in a fight with a neighbourhood cat in his time at the Reeves'. Still though, Charlie, the other cat, must have gotten his, because the two of them never fought again after that.

Truly Mouse's was a life that was full of excitement, and when he took sick and was no longer able to eat or drink, it was a tragic day; not a dry eye in the house. But when it was all done, no one could deny that this ornery cat saw his share of good days. If one believed in that sort of thing, I'm sure he would be spending his afterlife in the endless soft grass of the suburbs in summer.

Rest now in peace.