Mongo's time

Steve and I lived in married student housing at the University of Utah for the first three years of our marriage. It was a wonderful time. People had told us that the first years of marriage were difficult, but they were wrong. For us it was magical. It felt like having a sleepover with our best friend every night. We experienced new things, we traveled, we laughed every day and loved everything about our life… 

Except for one thing… 

We weren’t getting pregnant. On our third anniversary we learned the reason why. And we learned that Steve and I would never have biological children together. It was devastating. Steve had never wanted children so he took the news in stride. For me, it was catastrophic and I unraveled. Part of the unraveling was feeling like we had to get out of married student housing immediately. I felt like we needed a purpose in our lives. I had thought it would be children, but clearly I was wrong. 

So we bought a house. We were excited about it until we went to church that first Sunday. I realized instantly we had made a momentous mistake. In my desire to run away from babies we had inadvertently purchased a home in an area with a plethora of children. There were 1 million babies. There might have been 2 million. It’s hard to say. The numbers were a blur, but trust me when I say 3 million at least. I had stepped into my own personal hell and I had dragged Steve with me.

Within a few weeks of moving we were contacted by some friends of ours from married student housing. Animals were not allowed there and yet they had snuck their beloved cats in and had been hiding them for a year. Unfortunately during a maintenance visit they were discovered and told to get rid of them or face eviction. Our friends thought it would be a good idea to give us their two cats; Finnegan who had been blessed by the Catholic Church (and yet certainly was possessed by the devil) and Mongo who was the kindest, sweetest, gentlest cat we had ever seen. They did not want to take the cats just anywhere; they wanted the cats to be loved and cherished...by us.

There were just a couple of problems… I was an angry mess and Steve was allergic to cats. We tried to think of ways to get out of it, but nothing really rang true and we didn’t want our friends to be evicted or disappointed so we said yes and Steve stocked up on allergy medicine. 

Finnegan was not a good fit for us. He was scary. He would stalk us. He would follow us in ever decreasing circles before pouncing on us with fangs and claws drawn. Everything came to a head when he attacked me one day after I attempted to keep him indoors. I ended up with a blood infection and had to be on antibiotics. We told our friends we were rehoming him to mutual friends who lived on an actual farm. Finnegan went on to live a wonderful life there before tragically dying of feline leukemia. Apparently he was the best hunter they’ve ever had. 

But that left sweet Mongo and she was lonely. At that point we brought Romi home and the rest is history. 

I have been thinking a lot about Mongo and how between her and Romi the suffocating depths of my sorrow were eased in the years before M joined us. Mongo is 20 years old now. For the last few months we have watched her age before our eyes. We thought we would have longer with her, but she is sick and her body is failing her. She sleeps most of the day, she doesn’t have the ability to clean herself like she once did, her bones are arthritic and popping out in the wrong places, she looks at us with sad, mournful eyes. 

It is time. 

We talk to the kids. We schedule an appointment with the vet. M makes a coffin. M holds Mongo as we drive to the vet. We are somber. We are shown immediately into the room and the veterinarian joins us shortly. He asks if the kids are planning to stay. We have talked to them beforehand and we all choose to be in the room. We pet Mongo, tell her we love her, and praise her for what an amazing cat she’s been. We softly set her on the table and stroke her dingy, stringy fur while the vet injects her with the poison that will stop her heart. After he tells us she’s gone we spend 20 more minutes sobbing and petting her lifeless body. We put her in her coffin and take her home where we bury her next to Romi.

We are sad and so grateful she became part of our family; for the laughter, joy, and peace she brought into our home. Our lives have been more full because of her. We love you Mongo. Can't wait to see you again.