The year before I left Marin County for Kentucky, my friend Gay brought three kittens home. She owned the home my apartment was in. Soon after, she and her husband went out of town, the cat sitter they got bailed, and I started hanging out every day playing with and caring for the kittens. Alternating with trying to appease my cats.
Moti, the third arrival, had been feral and was frightened of all of us; freaked out, running, hiding… I felt like it was best to just leave him alone. One day as they scarfed up the food I’d put down, I gently reached out and started stroking Moti. He looked around with wide eyes, stopped eating, and jumped on me. For the next few days, that was it. I sat near their dishes as they vacuumed up their meals, I’d stroke Moti and he’d leap into my lap and ask for more. Pretty soon, when I came in to hang out he’d join the other two in jumping onto me for a nap.
When Gay came home and they started letting the kitties out they soon found their way into my apartment. I just left the sliding door open most of the time so my cats could roam at will. The little ones arrived daily to cavort and take naps. Moti soon started hopping on my bed to sleep with me at night. If Gay hadn’t adored him, I’d have asked to bring him to Kentucky with me when I left.
The son of a cat at the Sonoma ashram, Moti always seemed like a being who’d spent lifetimes in ashrams and temples. His feral days stayed with him as far as hunting and apparently he kept on hunting after he could only totter. My least favorite part of taking care of him was disposing of the dead rats… But mostly he had a contemplative air about him and a look of wisdom in his eyes. I loved him so dearly.
Moti always seemed to remember me and on the many occasions when I went out there to cat/house sit, we settled into a happy twosome (his little mates both died unusually young). I always felt an unbreakable bond between us developed the day I stroked his silky fur and he discovered that he liked a little loving.
When Gay told me during the winter that Moti had cancer, it came as a shock. But somehow I imagined he’d hold on for a while and that I could get out there to see him once more before he died. Found out today it’s too late. Moti has passed away. What a blessing they are, those little beings who warm our hearts and our lives.