Article Contributed on: 2/1/2009 10:11:12 PM
My name is MidKnight. I am a Maine Coon cat who lives in the Pinery and I have written a few things for you before. My personal story is well known, as how I came to live with Fran Miller and his wife, Kathleen, at what I call the Oasis. That is why I am really named MidKnight at the Oasis.
I come to you with a heavy heart in taking on the sacred task of making tribute to Buckii, an Abyssian cat who lived with us and passed on Friday, January 30, 2008, after living 23 years, which is 138 in human years.
Now, I know that people are about as interested in some other person's cat to the same degree they are their kids and dog. And, every year millions of animals pass from this earth with nary a mention. After all, many humans see themselves in dominion over the animal kingdom and view us as machines or articles of comfort to be disposed of when we no longer can fulfill that purpose. So, I write this not for you humans, but for the animalistic spirits amongst us who do understand. And, I do it because every sentient being deserves to have something said after his or her passing.
I came to the Oasis about five years ago. I was terrified and had gone feral after the suicide of my owner Jason, a boy of 15, and the sudden departure of his family. You see, the father had died and they simply went through meltdown. So, one day, I came back to the house and found it locked tighter than a mouse trap. I went through one winter, freezing and starving all the while coyotes, raccoons and foxes nipped at my heels. I had just about thrown in the towel when I looked across the street and saw this cat in the window.
I went across the street, at great peril to my life, as woman after woman with a cell-phone attached to her ear, driving Tahoes and Camrys raced past me. I finally saw a break in traffic and made a dash for it. When I arrived at the patio door, this cat, who I later came to know as Buckii, beckoned me in. Of course, I had to wait for Fran to open the door. I was so hungry, but also afraid to come in. Buckii said, "Look, just come in, eat, drink some water and then you can go out again. I'll have Fran make you up a bed on the upper deck where the animals can't get to you and above the snow and wind. Then, when you are ready, you can join us, here at the Oasis." Well, it sounded pretty good, but I was still so afraid that it took another winter and almost a year before I was willing to come in. Finally, I did, but felt a need to go out constantly. That ended when I was almost killed by a giant raccoon who took off my ear and put me in the hospital. So, after I came home from the kennel, I stayed in the house, where I have been ever since.
I came to know Buckii as an amazing animal. He was the ultimate transcendental, magical cat. He cared little for what concerned humans, but was ever attentive to the needs of me, Sarah, and Wiggins, the other three cats that Fran and Kathleen have rescued. He was a cat's cat. And, he has been patiently working on Bengie, the cat who now lives on the deck where I used to live. Bengie was also abandoned after being hurt and is afraid to come in. Buckii knew that it often took a lifetime for an abused animal to recover from his fear of humans.
Buckii overcame a great deal in his life. He was originally rescued from a dumpster with his brother Vickii. Kathleen picked Vickii up at the Dumb Friends League and as she left, Buckii let out a howl, which came to be known as his distinctive cry, almost like the Rebel Yell. Anyway, she went back the next day, got Buckii, and Vickii and Buckii were reunited. Vickii, along with Mauii, Fran's best friend, died a few years back, but Buckii lived on. He was the official greetor for any new cat and he oriented them to their new life here at the Oasis. His life is probably not a record, but the fact that he lived with dignity and died quietly at the end is admirable.
I realize that those of you humans who have suffered the loss of a close animal friend understand the gaping hole it leaves in one's soul. Animals love unconditionally and they are grateful for everything we give them. They come into the world with nothing, leave with nothing and epitomize living life for its own sake. It is hard to ascribe meaning to any animal's life and yet, they often bless this world with more grace than humans who try to leave a legacy of wealth or great works. It is rare to encounter a mentally-ill animal, but most humans are mentally challenged in some way.
It is a futile pursuit to question whether humans should be at the top of the food chain, or what we cats call--"the dog pile". That's the way it is. We animals, like the American Indian, have had to adjust and accept the new way. But, while you humans go about worrying about TARP, the economic meltdown and whether health care benefits will be extended to all, we cats focus on more existential pursuits. For example, Wigge is obsessed right now with a mouse under the stove. It has given meaning to his life. Sarah has discovered that she really likes to play with Wigge's foam toys while he is chasing the mouse. And, as for me, I like the sun this time of year. Buckii liked to sleep on his fleece blanket next to the stove.
We all miss Buckii terribly, but we know it is our sense of loss that makes us sad. He lived his life impeccably and was a model to us all. There will likely never be another cat like him in our lifetime, so it was an honor to know him. He is being cremated and his ashes will be mixed with Vickii, his brother, who passed on several years ago. So, in some small way, both Buckii and Vickii will always be with us in spirit. I know Buckii would have one last request. That is for every human to try and do something kind for an animal whenever the chance presents itself.