In the Beginning...

John and I had been married for about a year and a half in October of 1991.  We'd been in our house a little over a year and had two lovely kitties - Ivan and Bernice Kopiski.  We were pretty well established in our routine.  John was enjoying running along the Mississippi river paths after work, and I was working for Subway, gone about 9 or 10 nights a month and working long hours.  It had not occurred to us to get a third cat.

But, one evening in mid-October, we came home to find a message on our machine.  Our neighbor, Marge, had a kitten in her garage, and she wondered if we would want it.  It turns out, her son, Joel, was living with a friend in an apartment down on the river, about 6 blocks from us.  He was walking one morning when he heard mewling, and found a little striped grey kitten, bedraggled and wet, struggling on the bank.  He took it back to the apartment, only to find his friend irate.  I'm not sure what the story was there.  He may not have liked cats, but I think there was more to it.  Joel was never the most productive fellow, and I suspect he was living off the good graces of his friend.  Bringing a cat home was likely close to the final straw for him.  He told Joel to get the cat out of the place within the hour or he could go, too.  So, knowing no other options, he did what most grown-ups do when they don't know what else to do; he took it to Mom and Dad.  

Well, Mom and Dad (Marge and Bud, to us), had two dogs, and didn't think they would appreciate having a cat in the house.  They knew we had kitties, so Marge called us and left that message, then put the kitten in the only safe and comfortable place she could think of - her car.  

So, when we came over to see the kitten, she took us out to the garage.  We were expecting a mangy, scrawny, drippy little thing that would shy away from any quick movement, as strays so often do.  Instead, we saw this adorable little grey thing curled up in the front seat, as cozy as could be. I opened the car door and he looked up at me and immediately crawled up my chest and stuck his head under my chin, as if to say "Where've you been, Mama?"  Of course he came home with us.

We took him to the vet the next morning, got him all checked out, vaccinated, and cleaned up.  He was the picture of health.  It took another day to come up with the name Moses.  Perfect!  Enter Moses Kopiski.  We always like to dignify our kitties with middle names.  Ivan's was Raskalnikov, for he was prone to bouts of aggression followed by contrition.  Bernice's was La Flueur, for she was indeed our "little flower".  Moses' name proved to be a poser.  He liked eating bugs, so we often called him "Renfield", but it didn't really go with the flow.  We liked the sound of Moses P. Kopiski, but could never settle on what the P. stood for.  In the end, we left it at that, and decided Moses would let us know what it stood for when he was good and ready.  Turns out, it took a lifetime for us to get it.  But it was worth the wait.

It's easy for us to remember the general time in which Moses came into our lives.  Just about two weeks later, the five of us were sitting in the dining room on a sunny November 2nd, looking at 28 1/2 inches of beautiful snow - the Great Halloween Snowstorm had hit Minneapolis.  

That's our jack-o-lantern, sitting under the snow.

We already knew that we had a special kitty, so we were beside ourselves with joy that we had saved this little fellow from his homelessness when we did.  And I got two great Halloween Treats that year: a long, snow-filled weekend with my sweetie pie where everything stopped completely for a while, and a new kitty who would turn out the be one of my best friends.

For more pictures of Moses and his friends, click here.

Moses' Tale Has Ended

Moses the storyteller fell silent, Friday, October 16, 17 years (perhaps to the day) after we brought him into our home.  He went peacefully and easily, six days after we made the decision to let him go.  I spent a lot of time with him in the last week, even petting him through the night to comfort him.  Even at the end, when he was too weak to walk and could hardly utter a sound, just the touch of my hand would cause him to purr.

We don't know what happened, really.  After managing his blood sugar well for so long, it all of a sudden went sky-high.  A month of increased insulin saw it get worse, rather than better.  Now Moses took his shots like a star - never a problem - but he did not like going to the vet, and he would tell us so, every time.  So, the idea of more trips and more trips, and then that final trip, felt like an injustice.

In addition to the insulin, he also had some mysterious liver ailment that had been lurking in the background for about a year.  He had been sick last December, and we almost lost him.  He was in the hospital on IV for 4 days just to keep him from being dehydrated.  We were never sure what happened there, but we did learn of an elevated liver enzyme - many times higher than acceptable.  The vets wanted to do tests - even though they admitted that whatever the test results showed, there was little success in treating liver disease in cats.  So, we brought him home and started adding an herbal tincture and nutritional yeast to his food.  He loved it, and the liver enzymes reading went down from 780 or so to 72 over the course of a couple of months.  We figured we would enjoy whatever time Moses had left with us, and leave it at that.

We continued to manage his diet, and he was down to just over 9 pounds and quite svelte.  And still quite the storyteller.  And quite the snuggler.  I am going to come out and say something no mother ever should say, but here it is: he was my favorite.  He would lay in my arms all night, snuggled in like a stuffed bear.  I could always count on Moses for a hug.  I often carried him around the house with me like he were an infant, and he would respond with his arms around my neck.  Moses taught me everything I know about "snuggy bumps", and naps, and cuddling, and patience (and heaven knows, we can all use more information about that!), and relaxing.

His full name was Moses P. Kopiski.  He never told us what the "P" stood for, but I think I figured it out. It wasn't a matter of getting to the "Promised Land" for this fella.  I think he was the Promise.  He lived the idea that you just couldn't say "I love you" too much.  He embodied the notion that love received could easily be returned, and thus amplified.  He showed us that, more often than not, just sitting quietly with someone was the best thing you could do for them.

Over the next few days I will be sharing some of Moses' story.  He was an extraordinary being; sweet natured, tender, demanding, peaceful, funny, sometimes grouchy (as with humans, diabetes can cause irritability in cats, too, I found), but always a lover.  

As with our other beloved pets, Wilma, Ivan, and Bernice, we planted a living memorial over Moses.  I chose this particular plant because I wanted to connect this time of year with Moses - not when he left us, but when he came into our lives and added light and joy.  It wasn't until we were at the cash register with it that I realized the connection.  Moses now rests under a beautiful Burning Bush.