Not long after Bruce and I lost our first cat, Zoe, we realized it was essentially a foregone conclusion that we couldn’t really live in a cat-less house. So we went on Petfinder, and discovered a cute little kitten, 8 weeks old, going then by the name of Button. He was a grey-and-white tux with a little spot on the tip of his nose. White patch shaped like an inverted heart on his face, white bib, floofy white belly, elegant little gloves and socks, a fluffy grey coat, pink toebeans, big green-gold eyes. We did a meet-and-greet at his foster family’s house; it went very well, and a few weeks later, the fosterer delivered the kitten to our house.
“Button” didn’t really seem to suit him, so instead we called him Muji. Yes, after a Japanese department store, but it seemed to suit his minimalist grey-white coloring. As a kitten, he was playful, undignified, and very very cuddly. He would sleep on my chest at night until he grew too big to do so. Once someone asked Bruce how the new kitten was, and Bruce just gave them a weary look and said, “He’s fast.”
As Muji grew older, he became more dignified and less overtly cuddly. His floofy kitten coat was replaced by a plush, silky-soft adult coat. He wasn’t a lap-cat at all, but he liked to be in the same room as the humans. He was territorial, meowing noisily at the outdoor cats who were always wandering by our house. And though he wasn’t a lap-cat, at night, after Bruce and I had gone to bed, he would come into our room, jump up on the bed, and poke around until he found where our legs were under the covers, and settle down as close as he could possibly get, like a cat-shaped hot-water bottle.
Everyone who met Muji commented on what a handsome cat he was. He won a “cats on modern furniture” contest with this photograph Bruce took of him sitting on a Tulip chair.
We also commissioned Diesel Sweeties cartoonist R. Stevens to create a pixel portrait of the little guy, and even he commented on what a good-looking cat he was: “I refuse to say that any animal is cuter than any others … but WOW. What a stylish little guy.”
When he was three or so, he seemed like he was a bit lonely as an only cat, and so we acquired Oliver. Their initial friendliness turned into minor antagonism (Oliver never knew when to leave Muji alone) that resulted in several months of Muji making his displeasure known in the corners of the living room, but once we learned how to burn off Oliver’s energy and play with them together, they settled into a friendly détente only occasionally broken by the odd hissy squabble.
We were never going to be able to get a “Cute baby plays with adorable cat!” video when Edwyn was born; Edwyn was too sudden and loud for Muji’s low-key taste. Much as Oliver had done, Edwyn always wanted to make friends with Muji, but Muji wanted none of it. I eventually taught Edwyn to give Muji a “gentle pet”, of which Muji would tolerate one, maybe two, before scampering away for somewhere quieter.
Muji’s favorite toy for a very long time was a crocheted yarn octopus that we named “the anger squid” for Muji’s tendency to grab hold of it and bat at it with his hind paws as hard as he could. He liked to sleep in the sunny spot next to the garage door, and sometimes he’d curl up next to the door for warmth. When the wind blew out of the north and kicked up leaves in our foyer, he would watch, fascinated, and occasionally try to attack the leaves through the glass of the front door. He chirped at birds, meowed angrily at doors that he couldn’t get through, and loved Greenies cat treats.
He also hated vets. He didn’t at first, but several years ago Bruce and I came home one evening and found he’d licked or nibbled some lilies we’d bought earlier in the day, not knowing that lilies are poisonous to cats. When I called the emergency vet to ask for advice, they told me to bring him in RIGHT AWAY. I did, and the poor cat spent the weekend under observation, after also having vomiting induced. He was fine, but he came away from that with a burning hatred for vet offices. He was so upset about it that his records from his stay contained the repeated notation “Too fractious to handle”. Later vet visits involved giving him a sedative, which made him hilariously cranky and dopey.
Whenever people came to visit, he would inspect shoes or handbags and roll around on them as if they were made of catnip. He didn’t warm to strangers quickly; attempts to pet him might be met with a swat or a hiss. But he never used his claws, and if you saw enough of him, he might eventually count you as a friend.
His passing was very sudden and unexpected—he had no health problems that we knew of—and very fast, which at least is merciful. It was probably some unpredictable health event—a blood clot or a heart attack. Oliver was there and seems to know that his friend is gone. Edwyn is still too little to understand, but perhaps later he’ll learn more about the soft grey cat that he wanted so very much to befriend.
We’ll miss you, Muji. We love you. You were a good, good cat.
