R.I.P., Shadow (October 25, 1994-June 11, 2013); farewell dear friend

Shadow sitting in a window of my old apartment, summer 1995. One of his favorite places to cool off on a warm night.

If someone had told me, eighteen years (or more) ago, that I’d be writing an obituary for a cat, I’d have laughed. But here it is…and I’ve been practically crying my eyes out while writing this.

Shadow's health had been declining for several months, but took a precipitous dip in the last few days. He was a mere shell of his former self and was clearly dying, probably of cancer. We had him euthanized late yesterday afternoon.

Shadow entered my life in the summer of 1995, when I—as a reluctant pet owner—took him in at my mother’s suggestion. My mom had a friend who desperately needed to find this nine month-old cat a home. His first two situations had not worked out for a variety of reasons, and he was in a precarious predicament. I couldn’t bear the thought of this cat having to be placed at in a shelter, so I took him in.

As I said, I was reluctant. It seemed like more “hard work” than a bachelor like me wanted to take on, but from the moment I saw him, I fell in love. The truth was, I was lonely and needed him as much as he needed me. We quickly became best buddies, or at least the best pals a human and cat can be.

Originally, I liked "Malcolm" as a cat’s name and was dead set on using it, but when my new feline and I were together on that first day, I noticed that he followed me around wherever I went, just like, drum roll please...a shadow. "Shadow" seemed like such a corny and over-used name for a pet, but it just fit perfectly. Not only did he follow me all over the house, being black in color, he literally looked like a shadow.

Shadow was unlike any cat I've ever known. His personality was more like that of a dog, owing perhaps to the fact he was at least part Maine Coon. Once he got to know you, he was your devoted friend. He enjoyed sleeping on my chest or under the crook of my arm. He also had a habit of "grooming" me by excessively licking me with his sandpaper tongue. When he scraped my skin raw, this ceased to be fun, but looking back on it now, I really miss those licking sessions.

In his youth, Shadow was a skilled mouser, and this came in handy in the early days when I lived in an apartment with a rodent problem. I clearly remember one morning when I found a furry little "gift" in my book bag before I headed off to work. There was also a memorable evening when Shadow cornered a hapless mouse in my bathroom and was batting it around like a hockey puck.

Shadow’s greatest trait may have been his adaptability. Not including the few moves he endured before I obtained him, he endured six more moves, my engagement and marriage, the birth of two children, and the introduction of two other animals (Stella the cat in 2003 and Bodhi the dog in 2010). For the most part, he took it all in stride, and got along extremely well with both Stella and Bodhi AND our two sons. Even when the boys were toddlers and not-so-gentle with pets, Shadow endured their many pokes and prods with admirable patience.

I’ve been trying to prepare myself for Shadow’s decline, but nothing can quite prepare you for the loss of a companion animal, and Shadow truly was a “companion animal” and not merely a “pet.” I never saw him as my toy, or merely a cute cuddly object, he was my friend who loved me unconditionally through good times and bad.

So, farewell dear Shadow. I will never forget you, and I will hold a place for you in my heart for the rest of my life.

Shadow and my oldest son, summer 2009.