...And a big dose of bad news

Our wee family has experienced an enormous tragedy: Loki has gone missing.

I don't even really know how to write about this. I've never imagined it happening, while at the same time I've always imagined it happening. It was always my worst possible scenario, the thing I would lay awake at night and worry about.

Turns out, I was right to worry. Generally, I didn't even think about it during the winter, when he didn't love staying outside long, and predators are fewer and kept at bay by deep snow. But last Friday, he went outside at lunchtime when my mom went to feed the dog (as he always did), and wasn't there at 7 p.m. when we got home (like he always was). We called and called. Hubby stayed up all night. The next morning, we called all the neighbors. Nobody'd heard or seen anything. Not a trace! We searched the forests, but the falling snow made everything disappear. We've put up signs, but nobody's called.

I have had a rotten week. I have a deep hurt, and it feels like a hole in my chest. I swear it gave me a respiratory disease - last weekend I couldn't catch my breath, it felt like someone was sitting on me. I've had a busy week at work so I haven't had a lot of time to think about it, but every horrible eventuality pops into my head, and I can't deal with it. I really cannot deal with this.

Loki was the world's greatest cat. Bar none, apologies to the rest. He was wise, intuitive, wiley, sensitive, hilarious, independent, patient, and a terrific partner to Sasha. He was quick-witted, and we thought of him as the King of the forest. After 7 years of prowling the woods, he knew every stick and leaf. We never knew where he went, but he was at home everywhere, supremely confident and calm. Every autumn, when the days got shorter and the temperatures colder, Loki would grow visibly depressed, and spend his days curled up on the bed or in his red chair. He'd go out for a bit, but would mostly mope around the house. Come spring, he was reanimated, and the birds of the neighborhood suffered for it. I have seen that cat training Sasha to hunt, and bringing a mouse home as a gift to her. For a couple of years, dead rodents would turn up on the deck just as we went out to light the BBQ, and we always suspected he was asking us to grill up his dinner.

When we had people over or even large parties, Loki was always in the middle, getting to know everyone, laying in their coats - especially if the guest wore cologne - and generally enjoying himself. He was very popular among humans. I have actually picked him up upon return from one of his adventures, and he smelled like perfume or flowers. He would demand a shower from the bathroom tap every night before we went to bed, so we'd scrub water into his head while he stared at himself in the mirror, purring. He was very debonnair. He loved to eat people food, especially garlicky things like hummus, and loved to nibble on chives. He made his dislikes known as well - two weeks ago I was using a lightbulb tester on my xmas lights, and it emits a weird beeping when the tested circuit is good. After I'd been at it for 5 minutes, with Loki staring at me impatiently from the table above, he hopped down, quickly and lightly bit my hand, and ran away. Some mornings, especially weekend mornings when we were slower to get up, I'd feel something strange on my face and find Loki staring at me from 1/4 inch away, his whiskers tickling my lips. He'd then hop off the bed and tip over the garbage can, scrunch up a few plastic bags, knock chapsticks (or water glasses) off the bedside table, and generally be a pain until we woke up and fed him.

When he was just a kitten, and we lived in our apartment, every night he had what we would call 'Monkey Hour', when he'd just run up and down the hall for no apparent reason, and don't get in his way because he'd plow right into you. He'd get crazy eyes, and would run sideways he was so keyed up. After that was done, he'd settle in for the night. We worried about the Christmas tree the first year, but he knocked one bulb off once, and that was it.

He never had any health issues. He disliked the vet ferociously, and when poor Dr. Fro would hear that Loki was coming in, he needed to gather his special equipment. A heavy blanket to cover him up, and long falconer-type gloves to wear. Once upon a time Loki had his anal glands expressed by the vet, and he never forgot it. He would act like a total embarrassing jackass - panting and moaning all the way there (a hellish 10-minute drive), and snorting and snarling once he was on the table. I would feel like an embarrassed parent, repeating "I swear, he's not really like this." Still, he went in for all his regular appointments and shots, and was the picture of health. He lost a lot of weight this past year, probably due to the dog, who had him on the run constantly, but also probably because he was on diet food since Sasha is morbidly obese.

His last year wasn't the best of his life, and I feel guilty about that, because Rosie was just starting to leave him alone and be a nice companion for him. They were actually starting to like each other. I knew it would happen - didn't know it would take so long - but I feel like perhaps Loki felt he was getting short shrift, that he'd been knocked down a peg in the attention game. That could never be the case. Every morning I would cuddle with him for a minute and remind him that I loved him. I know he's not reading this, but for the record, I paid him less attention because I knew he could withstand it, and I knew he understood. He knew intuitively that Rosie was a puppy, and had great patience with her. He watched where he put his claws.

Loki will be missed by all of us. Our friends, our family, everyone who knew him. I won't focus on the specifics of what may have happened to him, but I feel like he went out like a warrior, doing what he loved best to do. He's gone to Valhalla, as it were, and I hope whatever happened was brief and worthy. Farewell, brave Loki. I love you.

1998 - 2008.