He Knew, I Swear To God He Knew....

He Knew, I Swear to God He Knew

His name was Milo and a more special cat has never lived that I'm aware of. He was all black and white and sure 'nough proud of it. He wore the colors like a biker who became a full-fledged member of the club.

Milo owned everything in his sight and that included 100% of my heart. I got him as a kitten and we bonded almost from the moment I held him. Now don’t get me wrong, he loved my wife too but he let it be known that I was now HIS and that was that. How you may be asking? Well as proof, there is a picture of him and me on my recliner kicked back, pretty as you please and sound asleep. I was cradling him (as per his orders) in a way that his head was upside down and mine was too but facing his. If you look very, very closely you might be able to spot our snores mixing together.

The first two years Milo the kitten became Milo the cat and you better believe he ruled the roost. There was no stopping him. He looked; he saw; he claimed. Everything was all his. If something new came into his abode he would sniff it and meow at the top of his lungs. I could hear what he was saying just as plain as day. “Mine, Mine, Mine!”

The years slid by as they always do and Milo became more tolerable. A nap replaced running, jumping, leaping as the ghost of time crept into both of us. But there is one thing we shared that age could never take away. "The Game." We both loved The Game and never stopped playing it no matter the age of time. Let me tell you the tale of Milo, the painful, unforgiving wood steps and me.

He was a wee bit older, three maybe four, when the game began and we both loved it. Milo loved to sit atop the refrigerator looking down upon his kingdom. One day I needed him to get down, for what I don’t remember, so as a last gasp of effort to get him down, I said, “Milo, race you upstairs.” I started to flap my arms and stomp my feet while slowly turning my feet in the direction of the steps. Now his eyes were getting huge with anticipation but having never participated before he did not know what lie ahead. I took off for the stairs going a human's version of Mach 1. I rounded the first corner well ahead of him and had the stairs in sight but the next thing I heard was the thump of his body hitting the floor in hot pursuit. I may have been going Mach 1 but he must have had afterburners because he passed me going Mach 10! And to rub it in, he stood at the top of the stairs and looked down upon me with a look in his eyes that screamed “Dad, you CANNOT beat Milo The Great!” and thus The Game was born.

How many times we played this game neither of us could count. But one day, as he was sitting on top of the refrigerator his taunts began again, “come on Human, try me again,” My sneaky mind came up with a devious plan. The day before I had put catnip in the drawer below him. I slowly snuck it out and plopped a big pile right next to him. While his attention was diverted to getting all goofy, I slowly made my way to the entrance of the kitchen. I swear he had one eye on the catnip and one eye on me. Where he came up with that talent I have no idea but I was sure that even with the one eye stare I would win. When I figured he was seeing over the rainbow quite nicely and his attention was diverted by the fact that he was rubbing his face all over every little thing we have up there with him I was half way out the door when I yelled “Milo, the Game is afoot.”

Victory was mine this time but halfway there I heard the slightly off-centered (thank you catnip) thump of Mr "He Who Has Never Lost a Race" coming hot on my heels. The afterburner he had hidden in his legs kicked in and this black and white streak went flying by once again. To this day, I will swear that the catnip made him even faster. I had to win one race…just one please!

So the next time, I decided to cheat and went to block him from getting by me but the saying cheaters never prosper is one hundred percent accurate. Not only did I NOT win but I broke my big toe on the unforgiving wood step. As anyone will tell you, when you break a toe no cast is small enough to apply so you have to just deal with it and limp around. 

Limping gingerly became my way of healing but when around Milo I tried to walk normal as I was trying to keep his furry ego from getting any bigger. But he knew…somehow he knew. How else can you explain that every time I was near him he would flop to the floor and roll back and forth as if laughing to beat the band. Oh he knew, yes indeedy, he knew and found humor in it every time I was around.

We aged, both of us, but our bond grew even more unbreakable. We witnessed the passing time and the game became not to see who won the race (I never did) but to see who made it to the top at all with old bones and too many naps having taken a toll. Getting older changed the rules. Now it was not reaching the top of the stairs but seeing who could get halfway up. Then it became one quarter up the stairs and then just to the first step. After that it became who could even get up off the chair first (now that I won.) I would grab him by the scruff and hold him back! God, I love to cheat!

I can only describe the passing of years as wispy clouds making their way across the sky; time meaning nothing to them. Through hot summers, cool falls, blasted cold winters and wonderful springs they roamed with not a care to their name. Rinse and repeat is all they did. We saw them all through the years and one day I noticed Milo was looking old and listless so I said to him, “Hey old man, if you have to go, I could carry you to the potty box.” Now if a cat is able to flip the bird he made it happen. As you know, a cat’s ears mostly stand straight up so Milo would lift his head while pawing his ear, staring at me as if to say, “Bite me!” Yep you're right, it was the closest thing to giving the middle finger as he could get.

I got down on my knees and buried my face in his fur and soon the purrs were coming fast and furious. “I know you’re old, old man, as am I,” I had to throw that last part in there or the ear rub would come once again, “but being this listless just doesn’t seem right so if you don't mind, I'll call the Vet.”

(Spoiler Alert...Must Have Tissues Handy.)

Of course, we made a vet appointment, as one must do in that kind of situation. Sitting in the examination room I opened the carrier and out prances Mr. Milo, owner of all he surveys. He proceeds to prance, rub and jump on everything he can. He even jumps on

the exam table telling me he is not afraid. I chuckle because I know what he is saying, "Everything is Mine, Mine, Mine!"

It was perfect timing too because in walks Mrs. Vet. Milo was fully checked out, a little underweight but that is to be expected as one ages. They took blood and checked for worms and she examined his body. "Hmm." That statement was barely audible to my ears, but I caught it. I said nothing nor did my wife. We were told to wait in the waiting room and they would get us when the test results were in.

My mind was going a mile a minute. Milo was in his carrier on my lap. I had the door open and was scratching his chin. Oh how he loves that. The wait seemed to take forever and my mind settled on one reason as to why Milo had to have tests. They either, found something semi-serious and needed to operate to remove it, or it's something minor and he could go home with medication. Yep that's all it is. That was the only logical explanation. "Bring Milo in with you please." "Bring Milo..." I thought to myself, why would she say that? They immediately took us back which in and of itself was unusual. "It's just a simple operation or pills" my mind said, "He will be fine and home in no time at all." My wife answered the only way she knew how, in the affirmative. 

The doctor followed us in and closed the door. Now I am really scared and the information could not be good at all. "Milo has renal failure. There is nothing that can be done. I'm sorry." The look in her eyes told me that everything she said was true and that I was going to lose my best friend, my partner in The Game, my nap buddy. One question screamed in my head over and over until I finally found the guts to ask. "Is he in pain? Is he suffering?" She spoke the one word I never wanted to hear, not in a thousand life times, "yes."

Milo had stayed in the carrier so I got down on the floor and lay in front of him and just looked at him. To say he was scared would be an understatement. He was shaking; hell the whole carrier was shaking right along with him. "Milo," I said, "you are sick and there is nothing that can be done."

His eyes begged me to not do this. "Please, Dad, zip up this door and take me home. If what is coming is true, then I wish to die at home, in your arms with the smells I grew up with. Please." "Milo, I cannot watch you suffer. I cannot hear your whimpers and screams of pain. To see or hear you in agony is something I cannot bear." I am not that strong. 

The carrier and Milo stopped shaking. He slowly came out as to savor every moment of his life, knowing that the end was soon. I quickly scooped him up, held him tight, kissed his cheek, and drenched him with my tears. Lowering him to the table as slowly as I could, he became resigned to his fate laying belly down on the table. He bored his eyes and soul into mine and smiled, "it's okay, Pop. You gave me a life of love, laughter and playing our game (which I never lost.) Don't grieve for me, Dad. You have done all you can for me and for that I thank you. I wonder what comes next? Will I be a small kitten again?" "I certainly hope so," I said this aloud confusing the people in the room, but not my wife; she understood fully. 

They told me to tell them when I was ready for the shot to be injected. "NEVER" my mind yelled, yet I responded "not yet please." God bless the staff, they patiently waited for me to be ready. After one final look at my buddy, I lowered my head to his and kissed him, feeling his breath on my cheek one final time. Delaying the inevitable I said, "This ain't right. It just ain't right. There has to be something you can do." The vet spoke very softly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Baldwin, there is nothing. You can take him home where he will be in great pain or you can end his suffering now." His eyes, oh my God his eyes; they were not resigned, not scared, not apprehensive. They just had sympathy for me. At the end, all he was doing was thinking of his Dad. I whispered, "Okay, give him the shot."

The needle went in and his end began. I made it a point to not let go of his eyes and I realized when he tried to get up that he was trying to show us that he was okay and could go home and live. He only made it halfway up before his sickness took him back down. The vet removed the needle and said, "it will take a few minutes to work."

I watched his eyes and he watched mine. "Thank you, Dad, the pain is going away, it isn't so bad. I just wish I could face you just one more time."

His body began to relax and the spark of life began to fade. The moment before death took him and the spark was extinguished he got in one last jab, "I broke your toe AND I never lost the game. How great am I?"

His corpse lay there in front of my crying eyes, bereft of life. I could not have been more stunned had I found myself naked in front of a gasping crowd with Petunias growing out my butt. Milo to me was more than just a name, more than just a cat, no more an animal that you and I are just humans. He was a friend, a pet and when I was surrounded by darkness a pinprick of light to show me the way home. There is no possible name, nickname or silly bastardization of his existence than could make clear the amount of life he bestowed upon me. 

But here he lays, my head dropped down and I was muttering. It came with my breath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Baldwin, I could not make out what you said." "He knew. If you were looking into his eyes then you were looking into his resignation. He knew. It was there. I swear to you. It was there." Once more I hung my head and felt the heartbreak boiling up inside me. It was not my intention to scare every animal in the building but my head came up and I let forth a roar any and every lion would be proud of 'HE FUCKING KNEW."

And that was that. Death won again. It took my best friend and left me beaten and broken hearted. I knew Milo was suffering and in pain. I cannot and will not abide that. Looking down upon the body, this vessel, this lifeless corpse, I said a silent prayer. "Thank you, Lord. Please heed my words and God help the poor soul that takes him into his world. I know his new family will think their kitten is strange as they watch their feline run up the stairs, come back down and stare at them as if to say "well, who needs a broken toe?"

Well that scream must have done the trick because all the grief, tears and the pleasure of holding him seemed to vanish until this story became my focus. Now it has all flooded back into focus and it's a sight I cannot bear to view again and yet there it is, plain as

day....whatever "Einstein" said to "write what you know" can kiss my once more grieving a**. RIP Milo