Farewell, Mr. Miles
Last night, our beloved 13 year-old cat Miles died. He wasn’t sick for long, and we were petting him as he died. Miles is the one who taught us how to love cats, and I’m going to miss him very much.
- Miles was Joel’s and my first pet together. We were living in an apartment and couldn’t get a dog, which both of us were more familiar with. We went to the PetSmart in Knoxville, TN where a local org did adoptions and picked him out when he was about 3 months old.
- The adoption people let us take him with us around the store for a bit while they finished up our paperwork or something. I didn’t know anything about cats, so I accidentally riled him up by hugging him too tightly and putting him in the shopping cart. I had to take him back to the lady and told her he had gotten too riled up to carry around.
- Miles was the first cat in our naming trend, ending up in us eventually having an Ella, Charlie, and Sarah as well.
- Being our first, I had no idea young cats lost teeth like humans do. It really freaked me out when I found one in the carpet, and of course I called the vet to ask about it. I don’t think we even had internet access at home at the time.
- Miles actually played fetch – you could toss a paper ball or milk ring (his favorites), and he would bring them back to go again. He taught us this game, rather than us teaching him.
- Miles liked to drink from the bathroom sink, across the various places we lived. He would come and meow for it, and lead us to the bathroom, where he would jump up to the sink and demand to be petted prior to drinking. I always joked that he could easily learn to turn the water on and off himself in our current house, but I suppose that’s beneath cats.🙂
- At this one apartment, I couldn’t find him when we came back inside from something, and I completely freaked out. I became convinced he had gotten outside, and I never let cats outside. I frantically looked around, and stopped a group of people to ask if they’d seen him, to be ignored. I blurted in my extremely rusty Spanish, “un gato, gris y blanco!” and then they talked to me. I later found him in the apartment, underneath clothes in a deep cloth hamper, where he’d been all along.
- At that first apartment, we didn’t have a bed, just a mattress on the floor. Kitten Miles tormented us in the middle of the night by lying on his side with his claws to the mattress, and scooting himself quickly around the perimeter of the mattress, pausing to claw our feet as he passed them.
- Mr. Miles like to sleep on the bed with us, and we would often wake up with him on/between our legs. I missed that a lot when I woke up this morning.
- Miles loved french fries for some reason, and would come begging for them whenever any were in the house.
- Miles was extremely time-oriented, and could always be counted on to remind me when it was dinner time for kitties. He was also extremely interested in dairy products, and could be counted on to meow his head off whenever cheese, yogurt, milk, or ice cream made an appearance. I’m going to miss his meowing for food, very much.
- This one time he got into a plastic shopping bag we had just put down, and somehow got tangled in it. It had a coat hanger in it, and he ran all over the apartment like a rocket, trying to get away from whatever was thumping behind him.
- He was grey (mostly on top) and white (mostly on bottom; (like a great white), leading me to call him a “shark kitty.” He had a white area on one shoulder with a big heart-shaped grey patch. I was always convinced that his white fur was softer, and spent some amount of time trying to pet his belly. That went over about as well as you would expect.🙂