R. I. P. Martin

one of our rescues came to us at our home, he wasn't exactly a rescue, but a reverse adoption.

Martin was an older cat when I moved to my home in the 1980's. he lived next door to us and spent many days on my porch eating with my cats.

you see, martin was overweight, clocking in at a whopping 33 pounds. the neighbors had rescued this scrawny, half dead kitten from the coast and he never quite got over being half starved. Martin LOVED to eat. and eat. and eat. so, when his weight hit 33 they put him on a diet.

not to be detoured from his quest for a full belly, he just trotted to our porch and ate with my cats. my cats didn't argue with him. who is going to argue with a 33 pound cat?

about 5 years ago, the neighbors moved to the country and asked us if martin could stay with us. he was older and they thought he would be happier staying where he knew. We agreed and martin moved in with us.

shortly thereafter, martin was diagnosed with fibroid sarcoma. he developed a huge mass on his side. we had it removed and hoped it wouldn't return. It did return, several times over. This summer when it returned, he was also diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, diabetes and a thyroid condition. we knew it was just a matter of time, and just wanted to keep him comfortable and happy until it became decision time. The mass returned quickly this time, we were pretty sure that this was the last time we could remove it.

but martin kept his personality, never missing an opportunity to chase a butterfly or stalk a squirrel. last thursday morning he was stalking some particularly interesting butterflies out in the front garden, content with his life in general. but I noticed that his tumor had opened up and was not looking good at all.

I scooped him up and took him to our handy dandy vet and asked if it were possible to try to remove the tumor once more. after all, if he were chasing butterflies and squirrels, he certainly wasn't in distress.

the vet agreed and performed the surgery. martin made it through the surgery but not the recovery. he just gently slipped away. a pretty good way to go, chasing butterflies one minute and going to sleep and gently crossing the river jordan.

so. the handy dandy vet placed him in a casket for me to pick up. we were having a particularly busy day with work and I didn't have time to bury him. so, my wise husband suggested putting martin in the fridge until we could bury him. we never have much of anything in our fridge except some vaccines for dogs and cats, cream for coffee and maybe an old jar of jelly.

that night I went to a cooking school at The Everyday Gourmet taught by Robert St. John.

robert kept talking about his philosophy in life which included: food, family, friends and fun. he kept suggesting you invite a bunch of friends over, open the refrigerator and have a party with what you have in there.

all I could think of was "I don't think my friends and family would like it if I tried to make a party with my dead cat".

posted by Elizabeth @ 6:50 AM