About a month after I left for Mexico, Midnight decided to quit eating. She had lost 7 pounds by the time I returned for the Holidays. Though she would eat a little for me, and for others, she never regained her strength and eventually passed away in the lap of a friend. She meowed, and purred, up to the last.
I am grateful to those many who reached out to Midnight during these long last months: Hope, Mike, H, Tony, Matt, Beth, Luke. Thank you for making my baby more comfortable, more loved.
Midnight the talker. a sweet sweet cat. Always seeking my lap. or the crook of my arm. Always had something to say. I don't think she cared that you didn't understand everything, she just had to get it off her chest.
I'd like to spread her ashes at a place significant to her, but she and I lived in a lot of locations. As far as I know, she was born in the East Bay, as I got her from the Oakland Animal Shelter when she was less than three months old.
Her baby-first year was spent on the beautiful Mills College campus, where she both befriended and fought with raccoons, squirrels, a skunk. Mills was an idyllic setup for a cat, but a crappy place to work, so eventually I brought my tree-climbing little one to Russian Hill in San Francisco, where my baby grew up, slowed down little and eventually stopped leaping in the air for flies and string.
She was an indifferent receptionist at 1080 Chestnut, just happy that her daddy worked out of the apartment. I left the door open during the business day, but Midnight wouldn't come out of the apartment, unless I was out in the hallway too long. She would occasionally attending meetings of the board of directors: sitting at the table and voicing her opinion. The Board of Directors of 1080 Chestnut were amazingly tolerant.
Then it was off to the Presidio, where the neighborhood kitties made sure my now-pudgy little girl knew her place. Tough crowd, that Presidio.
Then a year in San Bruno, where she got her first taste of hanging out with Tika, aka The Other Cat. Midnight established herself as the Alpha cat, and Tika urinated to protect her space.
Then Daly City for only seven months. I was happy, living finally with my sweetheart of five years, and her nasty beautiful daughter Tika. I believe Midnight really enjoyed stalking and chasing little Tika. She knew I didn't want her to do it, so she took to attacking while Sungmi and I were out of the house, but she also couldn't tell a lie. We'd come home, and Midnight would do the guilty-walk to the isolation room. Sure sign of a kittyfight.
Then Tika would urinate in Sungmi's purse. Another sure sign of a kittyfight...
We had to spit the cats up, so I found a situation in Marin. I was occasionally afraid for my life there, but Midnight liked it well enough. Eventually, I hightailed it to Mexico, and Midnight went to San Francisco again. I left her to my good friend's embrace, Midnight's godfather H.
And then last to Alameda, "airlifted from the Tenderloin" a friend said, a return to her East-Bay roots to close the circle of her life. Mark's house, not far from the Oakland Animal Shelter, is where she spent her last days, being shuttled to the vet, getting brushed and attended to: Mark also works from home, a perfect situation for my little attention-hog. However, it was not to be, as she had already screwed up her liver, unaware that she was committing suicide out of heartbreak.
Goodbye, Midnight. I'm sorry I left you.
