Mojo - A Memorial

Sometime about 9 years ago, my mother called me about getting a pet. It seems she had found two kittens, an all black boy and a calico girl in a tree by her house and now that I was in a house, she thought I needed a friend, er pet. While they were both beautiful kittens and I briefly considered bringing both home, the chaos of having small two kittens in the house was a bit overwhelming. [When Shadow adopted us, joined our little home I found out I was right – being the caretaker of two cats can be trying.] So I took the boy. 

His full name was Mister Mojo Risin’ – obvious reference. It also alludes to Muddy Waters old song. I would have two of the ingredients for a his spell in one: black cat bone and a ‘Mojo’ tooth. But of course pets acquire nicknames – pet names, right? – because of their personality and traits. Mojo was also of course Mr. Mojo. Being shorthaired he became Fuzz, Mr. Fuzz and Fuzzy Fuzzbutt. When he looked regal laying on his sun perch in the laundry he took on Mr. Handome. And Handsome Handsome. I don’t know where I got or started putting the words ‘goof’ and ‘bean’ together but if he was being silly, he was ‘being a goofbean.’

He was ‘fixed.’ I wanted him to be an indoor cat exclusively. But I started letting him wander the yard so he could eat some grass and get some fresh air. The FIRST time he walked across my very busy street – even though it was dark and calm, my heart was in my throat. But he was smaller and faster thanm me and just kept wandering up the neighbor’s yard… 

Through eight years, Mojo was my buddy. Yes, he developed an annoying habit of clawing the box spring and leaping onto the bed – usually several times – just as I was falling asleep at night. But he also lay in my lap and let me pet him while I quietly cried at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life.  He tolerated most of what I played musically – Soundgarden usually chased him out to one of the four corners of the house. 

Yesterday I came home early and it was so gorgeous outside I opened the doors and some windows so the cats had free reign. Shadow came in again about 8 but Mojo was nowhere to be seen. 10:30, 11:00, 11:30, midnight, 12:05, 12:10, 12:15, 12:30, 1:00… 1:30… 3:00…4:00… I last checked both doors about 4:30 as I was having trouble sleeping.

This morning, the dread truth.

I live on a very busy street. Not one of the busy arteries, not a major major thoroughfare but a very busy secondary street. And people fly much faster than the posted 30 MPH speed limit. At 30, you’re going 44 feet per second. At 35, 51, at 40 it’s almost 59. Maybe someone yawned as they set out for work. Maybe turned their eyes to change the radio or pick up their coffee cup. Seeing a black cat on a blacktop road at night can be tough even if you’re looking. Maybe it was dawn and the sun had just burst into their eyes over the tree tops and they were flipping the visor down. Maybe they even saw him but travelling at so many feet per second…

My hope is that this was just an accident. I don’t wish the guilt on anyone. I have driven county roads late at night and once heard the thud of bone on metal as a dog chasing my car… It’s a sickening feeling. I try not to hit squirrels but I have seen lots of squirrels, possums, raccoons and pets in or by the road. It is a fact of life. 

That doesn’t subdue the first moments of agony and grief though.

People are funny with their pets. I know I’m not the only one who made rounds at night, locking doors, petting their furry buddies, telling them goodnight and that they love them. The fact that this was inevitable does little to ease today’s pain. 

You deserved longer life, more naps in my lap on chilly Sundays, more nights waking me up just to be petted. You deserved to just fall asleep one day on the bed and just not wake. But it was not to be.

I hope that this was mercifully fast and relatively painless, that you in fact never knew what hit you. I feel you will join the ‘other’ ghost cat here who catches the corner of my eye deep in the night and who pulls down towels off the shower curtain rod.

I will get past this as I usually do. Channeling my feelings into words and pulling myself up by me sneaker strings and doing what I must. But it’s going to be weird for a few weeks.

Thank you for being my buddy. And Shadow’s mentor and ‘older brother.’ We will miss you.

Addenda: Shadow got his name not because he is also a black cat but because he followed one step behind Mojo [once he came out from under the bed] for weeks once he moved in – literally, in his shadow.