This past week, our cat Musubi gave us a scare. First off, you wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he is about 19 years old. He currently has lymphoma and has had a portion of his intestine removed. We know he is nearing the end of his life but losing him, well, it’s going to be rough. We thought we had reached that day this week….
Eric called me into his office, where Mu typically resides during the day – “Come quick, something is wrong with Musubi!” – his legs failed him, he was panting, his eyes darting. Immediately I called our beloved vet clinic – they said bring him in now. And so we wrapped him in a blanket, and we tried not to cry as we sang him his favorite songs on the trip over to the clinic. He was scared.
It turns out he had age-onset vertigo. Our brilliant veterinarian diagnosed him quickly and accurately. It could have been a stroke, too, she said, but it wasn’t as likely. She administered some medications to our dear little one.
He recovered quickly – it was likely vertigo, because the medications worked. He is the most miraculous healer I have ever met. He heals from hits to his body quickly like no other. Last night, he crawled under the covers and purred and snuggled between us nearly all night. One day, our old MuandFu.com world will change forever. I am just rejoicing that it was not this week. And not in fear.
NEVER IN FEAR.
Henry freaked out when we ran out of the house with Musubi. I didn’t take that picture in the moment, but this is what he looked like hours later when the adrenaline wore off. Normally, Henry ignores him – cat? we have a cat? Mu acts like nothing happened. When his favorite person, J., came running from her home an hour away to see him – in case this was his last – he basically ignored her in his catlike manner. People hate cats because of this aloofness, I think, but I find it charming. And it’s like the heavens open up when an aloof cat decides to grace you with his presence.
Mu came to us during our Hawaii years. Eric and I volunteered actively at our local animal shelter/ humane society. We spent many happy days taking pictures of cats and dogs for placement on the website, doing technical consulting, and fundraising.
But it was the pictures that brought us the most joy. Those pictures were critical, we discovered, in getting animals adopted. People respond to a good picture – and most shelters don’t have the time to coax them out of the critters. The pictures we took together were instrumental in boosting adoptions. But it wasn’t us – it was the hearts and minds that the Lord gave us.
In many places, one adoption means one less killing. It’s rough. The impact of killing an animal as your daily job is unreal. We had an acquaintance at the humane society, and her job was euthanasia. That’s what she did every day. She was a wreck. The toll of having to kill ‘unwanted’ animals – the tiniest of God’s Kingdom – is enormous and largely ignored.
Mu was once on that kill list.
We first met Mu when we were together working in a cattery taking pictures one sunny Hawaiian afternoon. He was new to the cattery so he was on our list to photograph and upload to the website. Most cats are shy – they seem to know when a camera lens is pointed at them. So we resorted to tricks like Eric dangling a toy over my head so the cats would look into the camera. But Mu – he looked at me from atop his cat-shelf-perch, leaned into the camera, and said ‘Hello. I am Musubi.’ – not a joke. And for some reason, he did this in what is now his characteristic accent similar to that of an old Japanese wise man. (Yes, we talk for our pets. I wonder if we are the only ones who do this.)
A few days after that picture, we heard through the coconut wireless that Mu was moved to the back room – slated for killing. He had been fighting with the other cats, they said, and so because he was belligerent, they were going to euthanize him. That was not going to happen in our world, we declared.
I called my acquaintance who did the dirty work and asked her to hold him. Eric ran out there to the facility and adopted him that day. And from then on, he was ours.
There is much more to the Musubi story. But that’s all I can record for myself right now. I just wanted to remember the earliest Musubi days and record my gratitude for another day with him.