On our love for Mogo and how we had to say goodbye

Dear reader,

I put off writing this letter because somehow it makes it more real.

Our Mogo had to be put to sleep a fortnight ago, after the vet told us he had bone marrow cancer and was suffering. He was so stoic and majestic until the very end that you wouldn’t have known it. The meds seemed to be working, although Mogo wised up to our tricks of getting them in him, and I prayed that it was a health blip and he’d be with us for much longer than thirteen years. I wish he could have been with us forever, but isn’t that always the way with love?

So I wanted to tell you about our boy. I know you know a lot about him already, but he had a tendency to slip into my writing and it will always be that way, I suspect. So here are thirteen things about our tabby boy, who in mind my was always Echo, the leopard from Druid Heir.

1) His half-sister Amli caught our eye from the litter first and we chose Mogo because she needed a companion. Or, perhaps he chose us. The right cat will always find you.

2) Introductions to our cats always went like this: A) Amli has knee high socks, Mogo has little socks. B) Be careful with Amli. Mogo is always calm. C) Their names are a pair. Mogo means cassava chips and Am(b)li means tamarind chutney.

3) Mogo was the epitome of a cool cat. He was wise, curious, gentle, affectionate, gentlemanly with family and strangers alike, dealt with Spaniel energy with calm and disdain, and was the boss of our three pets (and maybe us).

4) He was supportive in all things school. He would hop onto the chair beside the children when they did their homework, and sometimes we’d spot him darting through gardens alongside us on the school run. He once picked our daughter up on her way home from Latin.

5) He never demanded treats or strokes, but would sit next to us proudly and melt when we offered them. He sometimes gently head butted our hands or face for attention but never insisted. The cats were usually quite independent of each other, but they would curl up together occasionally on our daughter’s bed.

6) We could hand feed him treats and call him in from the garden like a dog. He really was very clever. Towards the end, he started jumping on counters for our food for the first time in his life. We think that he understood his body suddenly had different needs.

7) I got very irate when one neighbour happily told me that their daughter called him the *itch cat, because Mogo charmed everyone and I couldn’t imagine why she would talk filth about him. He had clearly had an adventure I didn’t know about.

8) During building work, one of the loft windows was accidentally left open. J rescued Mogo from sliding off the roof tiles three storeys up. Our nextdoor neighbour pulled up a deck chair and snacks to watch the show. Mogo was not impressed with a plank to help or a box we offered while I held J’s ankles. In the end, it took J balancing him on a wicker basket lid to coax him back inside.

9) He had a very particular hunting noise late at night and we would look at each other thinking oh no, what has he brought in now? We’d had it all. Pigeons, mice (including a pregnant one), rats, a lizard and a frog. Plus a squirrel that froze so he left, and it quivered next to our pantry cupboard until I found it. Then there was the time I was on a book deadline and J had taken the kids out. I heard a bump on the garden office roof and one by one, Mogo was stealing baby birds from a nest. I didn’t know how to stop him so I used a water pistol to get him away and locked the cat flap so he couldn’t get out. But he outwitted me, because in my panic, I turned the lock the wrong way, and so I had to catch him all over again.

10) He always met us at the front door to welcome us when we came home, and would sneak out of it when we opened it like he was human and preferred doors to his cat flap. He was an explorer when we moved to Geneva for a year, too. The cats were three years old then. Mogo explored the neighbourhood and came back with a limp on a public holiday. I had to take him across the border to France for treatment and the vet said he had fleas. (Unlikely as he had just passed UK health checks to cross the border). We needed a flea treatment in the Geneva house and that led to woodworms falling from the eaves all year.

11) We noticed, though alert and himself, that he stretched out on the vet's table the last two visits and kneaded his paws like cats do when they trust and are happy. In retrospect, we think he was giving us permission to let him go.

12) Mogo had a habit these past few years of dozing quite brazenly in Ziggy’s dog bed, and so, when the time came, the dog bed went with him to the vets for his final minutes. He would have liked that, I think.

13) He is single-handedly (paw-ly) the reason why I am both a cat and a dog person, and was most certainly my soul cat. I am so grateful that he was ours.

Please enjoy these beautiful pictures of our boy. I especially want to point out how Ziggy’s lip is curled in the photo where Mogo is behind him on the blue sofa and how in the picture of them in the garden, Mogo’s ear is turned backwards so he is aware of where the dog is.

Hug your furry and non-furry loves for me.