NEMO

March 8: Nemo was euthanized today, a couple months short of her 13th birthday. She had liver disease. She would not eat. Nemo and 2 of her litter mates, Max and Min, followed a couple of our inn guests home late one night in july of 1994. They were born in a barn about 2 miles from the inn and at the time of their escape were about 3 months old. I had to leave the inn on August 12 and stayed at my friend Tom's house in Pawlet. The 3 kittens, and new puppy, Luke and kitty Sushi (from a previous fall litter), came with me. I returned to the inn in September leaving the 3 kittens behind with Tom. There were reasons for all that but that's another story. The next time I went up there to visit, as I was leaving, sitting in my car about to close the door, tiny Nemo came running out to the car and jumped in. I closed the door and took her back with me. Max and Min continued to live with Tom but Max disappeared when he was about 2. Min is doing well. Max and Min were pure white with half tails. Their father was a wild white manx. Nemo didn't look like them and she was very small and remained that way.

Nemo worshipped me and resented other cats. She suffered their presence, even her half sister, Sushi. She accepted Luke, my dog. Sushi and Luke were bonded so mostly she had me to herself until I got Mowzer in January of '98. Mowzy was very possessive of me too and being male and more aggressive, he usurped her position. Mowzy disappeared on Memorial day in 2003 (I was disconsolate for months) and Nemo enjoyed a renewed status. Sushi and Luke died within a month of each other in the fall of 2005 and then Nemo was the only pet and very content to have me to herself. In the spring of 2006 I got the kittens and she was upset but gradually came to tolerate them, probably because they were respectful of her and didn't bother her. I made sure she got as much attention as she wanted.

Tiny as she was, it was easy for her to ride around on my shoulder, an indulgence she enjoyed immensely. Nemo was the most graceful and agile cat I have ever known. She could leap straight up at least 5 feet. She could jump to the top of a fence post, land on her front paws and suspend her hind legs in the air, then put them down with perfect balance.

She conducted herself in all matters with absolute grace and dignity. I called her "my flying kitty", "tiny dancer" and "little princess".   As with all my animals, I loved her dearly and the loss is painful.