A year ago today, on October 20, 2016, came the time to let Milou go. He crossed the rainbow bridge less than two weeks after Texas.
Milou was what we would call a bigger-than-life figure. I had not known him since he was a kitten — my husband had been owned by him for a while when we met, well, both in Paris. He was the last of our three cats that immigrated with us from France.
To my husband’s recollection and mine, Milou had always had health issues, but he sure loved life — and food — and was lucky to have found my husband who always took good care of him. On top of his health issue, there was the leprechaun accident in Ireland: One night, we still don’t know exactly why — although we suppose to chase a leprechaun — and how, Milou managed to jumped out a window of our 3rd or 4th floor apartment in Ireland… and he fell on the floor at the bottom of the building. He hurt one of the ligaments in one of his rear legs, but was extremely lucky: this was Ireland, and the grass was water-soaked. Additionally, had he fallen just two feet or so away from the grass, he would have hit concrete and probably would have never survived. I remember telling him affectionately how he had to hold on to life because one day we would be moving to America with him.
And holding to life he would. In fact, ironically, part of what saved him was that he loved food so much ;)
Milou loved to eat and he loved to play. Until only a year or so before his death, he always seemed like a kitten in spirit, playing every time he could. With strings, balls, our shoes, whatever! He also luuuuved catnip.
Earlier in life, Grouik had taken care of him when my husband adopted him as a kitten and they were inseparable. Well, Grouik was much more independent and sometimes there would be fights, but never for long.
Life with Texas wasn’t always easy — Texas liked to tease Milou but Milou hissed a lot at Texas. When Kitshka arrived, it took him months before he stopped hissing but they finally became friends and played together often.
For some reason I’m thinking about this only now as I write these words, but a picture of Milou in the fields of bluebonnets would have represented him well, I think: curious for adventure and life, playing with the wind and chasing butterflies, always like a kitten. Milou was also a gorgeous kitty.
It was hard losing both kitties so close to each other. In many ways, it was, at least for me, as if some part of my past was dying too — Texas and Milou somehow linked my husband and I to France and to each other, too.
I bet Milou has found, along with Texas and Grouik, gorgeous fields of catnip at the rainbow bridge, and they are probably trading French meows classes for some more. We miss you all three so very much.
