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Here are the last weeks of Midnight Green.  After I posted that Midnight wasn’t eating very well, some folks suggested we take him to the veterinarian. Easier said… We had taken him to the vet in September 2023, and they determined that he was “Screw-loose crazy,” which we already knew, and he resisted treatment, let’s say.

Still, we kept changing his diet giving him sundry food items that we had never given him before in hopes that something would strike his fancy.

Midnight liked to go into the bathtub and hang out there. Occasionally one of us would turn on the spigot and he seemed to enjoy getting himself wet, which was very unusual for him from his past. He liked drinking the water from there, even though he had full bowls of water downstairs.

He had this weird tendency to stick his paws into the bowl and knock them over. Moreover, his paws were almost always caked with cat litter which would get into the bowl, so we had to change his water three or four times a day.

Testing

Ultimately, my wife and daughter took him to the veterinarian again in late June 2023. They noted that he still had that personality, though now physically weaker. After a series of tests  – expensive ones, I might add -they relayed that he had three major problems. One was that he was anemic. Another was that he was diabetic, with a glucose level twice what the maximum ought to have been. The third was that he had pancreatitis, possibly cancerous. The family talked and determined that there was no need to pursue any further treatments and would probably have him go to the vet to be put to sleep.

On Friday night, my daughter and I talked about death and experiences that I had had dealing with the passing of cats and family members. We discussed the fact that people can say really stupid things when people or animals die which are not particularly useful, such as “It’s all for the best.” We’re not feeling that at the moment. The talk seemed to make her feel a little bit better.

Decline

It was painful to watch him get weaker and weaker. On Saturday, I put him on the base of the fireplace. He slipped off and he couldn’t find his way back up. A couple of hours later, I was lying down in bed around noon and my daughter screamed “ROGER!!” with a curdling cry. I knew either she was in grave physical harm or that Midnight had died; it was the latter.

She was crying and she wanted her mother, who was off shopping. When her mother returned, I got a box for him to be in, using up unmatched socks to line the bottom. She and her mother cleaned the cat because his paws and tail were filthy. My daughter petted the cat for a good while she cried.  My wife cried and then my daughter said she wanted me to read a blog post I had written about Midnight in 2021, which I did.

We started a playlist for Midnight, which of course included Midnight At The Oasis by Maria Muldaur and Midnight Train To Georgia by Gladys Knight and The Pips, the latter a song that she has recently purchased. Also, Green Tambourine by the Lemon Pipers, tied to the fact that when Midnight would get crazy and decide to attack me periodically, I had a tambourine on the kitchen counter to fend him off. He did not like the sound of the tambourine or the vacuum cleaner, for that matter.

Aftermath

That night, I fell asleep in the chair in my office. When I woke up, I was really tired but also very sad and I cried about Midnight when I really hadn’t done so before.

We tried to get Stormy to have her bowl where Midnight’s bowl used to be but she wouldn’t have anything to do with that. She kept looking over her shoulder, expecting him to pounce on her or push her out of the way. His place was in the back of the kitchen, while hers was in the front. Moreover, she’s now eating the pate we fed him in the latter months, so her diet may be changing, too.

We’ll miss Midnight, of course. Conversely, guests in our house won’t be terrorized by him. And someone else can feed her when we’re away.

It’s a weird thing. Despite all his strangeness, he seemed to be my cat. He would sit on my lap or he would sit next to me and put his paws on my lap. That was comforting and fine when he liked me, which was about 95% of the time. Until the last week or so, he remained an aggressive food eater. He would invariably get under foot, even running between my legs when I was trying to feed him and I would almost trip over him, occasionally stepping on him despite my attempts not to do so. It was a very challenging thing to try to give him food; he was obsessed with food until he wasn’t.

I’ll miss you, Midnight Green, Middy, That Darn Screw-Loose Cat.