After nearly 22 years together, I had to let my roommate Monk go.
At 12:45pm today, April 13th 2021, my long-time buddy Monk, my roommate for the last 22 years and many relocations, had to be put down. It was a really rough last couple of days, much more difficult than letting Dart go almost 10 years earlier.
His condition over his last days, really degraded quickly. He went from being a bit ‘stiff’ and difficult to walk over the last few months, to no longer being able to control the entire rear half of his body in his last day.
His last, full night together with us consisted of me picking him up to help him stagger to the litterbox only a few feet away in the bathroom, and holding him up while he urinated and defecated all over himself, and then cleaning him up in the tub right after.
I woke up a couple of hours later, to see him trying to drag himself by his front paws back into his padded bed on the floor, with urine leading back from there to the litterbox. He couldn’t muster enough energy to lift his head much, or even to chew his food or drink water.
His body was so limp, frail, it was hard to hold his weight up while he ate or went to the litterbox, without causing him pain, because he had no real muscle tone left to keep his own bones straight.
It was time, I couldn’t wait any longer, without causing him to really suffer even more than he was already suffering. He was in fantastic health for those 22 years, with the exception of those last few months. Many tests and prescription diet changes later, I couldn’t stop the slide of his health failures.
My life with Monk was a long, amazing life. I will remember every moment with razor sharp clarity. From his sharing baskets next to Dart through laying on my back while I slept, or curling up under my arm while I read.
His name was a perfect choice from the start of his life, straight through to the end. He was always watching, inspecting, learning, waiting his turn at the food, water or the window to watch the birds and big world outside.
I couldn’t quite get him to play fetch like Dart, or chase the laser dot as much as other cats, but he had his own, deeply introspective appeal. We’d spend hours together each week in our own “Zen”, just listening to the sounds of nothing, taking in the world, being active observers and participants.
He was the only cat that Seryn had known for her entire life, there before she was born, and there to the end of his days. He would watch her in the crib, curl up around her head when she would sleep, and make sure she was safe, much like a trusted family canine.
He spent some years with Dart, Cooper Coombs, Ashe and Tink. He’s been a friend to all who have met him. He was nothing short of the smartest, most introspective, calm, patient, Buddhist of cats I’ve ever owned.
As an albino cat, he had his share of weird health difficulties starting from the first day we adopted him. He was found by a coworker of my girlfriend at the time drinking antifreeze out of the driveway in the middle of winter. He was treated for frostbite and ever since then would never, ever allow anyone to touch his paws, because they were super-sensitive to touch. He suffered from cat acne later in life, weight gain and loss, gingivitis and several teeth surgically removed, many diet challenges and food allergies, several unexpected surgeries and many tests.
His lack of one of his canine teeth caused a unique “yarr! Pirate Face” as his lips got stuck on his teefs.
He was one-of-a-kind, unique, and the most intelligent, sweetest, friendly, cuddler of a roommate I could have ever asked for.
Monk, you will be missed. I can only hope, if there’s ever another place after this life, that you’ve found Dart in that place, and you’re happily playing Meow-co-Polo with him like you did for so many years.