Yesterday was a terrible day, as I had to say goodbye to my utterly loved little furry companion of the last 15 years, Mojo.
She had been off colour for only a week or so, but declined very quickly, which in retrospect was a blessing for her. She'd stopped eating, apart from taking a little bit of ham from my fingertips, and was drinking a bit more often than usual. And had literally 'got old' in the space of a few days, with wobbly back legs and a bit of a tilt. She went so, so fast from being completely normal to sick and elderly, it was awful.
The vet ran blood tests and confirmed it was the anticipated diagnosis of late stage kidney failure, a very common thing in older cats. Her creatinine level should be no higher than 140, but was 440… and the list of issues – low temperature, paleness etc – continued.
I took her home for the rest of the day, having cuddles and even getting a few purrs as I held her. I popped her under her favourite bush in the garden to suck up the October sun for the last time. And told her – over and over – how much she was loved and what an utterly amazing friend she had been for these past 15 years.
When H and I got Mojo, she came as a pair with little tabby kitten Conker in their winter of 2008 just after I was diagnosed. Conker getting her name as I loved it, and Mojo getting hers as it was all about trying to give me some of my mojo back through cat cuddles, after the terrible news of myeloma. And we thought at the time that both of them would outlive me by some way. But two years later, Conker didn't come home one day and, having put up posters everywhere, we got the unwanted call that someone had seen that she had been run over. I remember being on the top floor of Jupps Yard working with Jane, when H rang to say he'd had the bad news.. the first bit of cat heartbreak.
Mojo then came into her own, going from being the 'black cat in Conker's dominant shadow' to the most incredibly loving cat anyone could ask for.
She was a proper little character in her own right. She loved sitting in places she shouldn't be – in H's rucksack, in the table bowl and often in suitcases as they were packed – she always knew when we were going away. On a lockdown jigsaw, midway through being done. And frequently by my laptop as I tried to work, with her trying to get on it and on me, staring in that mesmerising cat way every few minutes in case Mummy was now free.
One of her annual favourites was hiding in the wrap from the Xmas decorations, as H & I would put up the tree each year, occasionally getting a surprise swipe from a Mojo paw from the depths of the balls of protective paper.. Not for her the actual cat cave I so lovingly bought her, although she did kindly grace it at least twice with her 'I'll choose where I sit' furry presence ..
She loved humans in general and tolerated all manner of small people, pulling her tail and chasing her about, with great patience. If there was a party and people were round, instead of legging it upstairs to safety she'd be strolling about, loving the company, always sniffing out a bit of unwatched chicken or the remnants of a cup of tea, given the slightest opportunity.
She got the hang of having first Scrumpy and then Maddie around, as well as the occasional visiting dog. Tolerating their presence, very rarely ever being chased by them as she was a dab hand at a warning hiss and then a lightning swipe with her right and left hook. Even putting up with the 'sibling arm round the shoulder' which most cats would have run a mile to escape from. Flossy and Lottie found her fascinating, even if the feeling wasn't entirely mutual..
She was very, very much Mummy's girl, following me around and leaping onto my chest at the slightest opportunity. Never a lap cat, Mojo's preferred space was right under my chin so her quirky single white whisker could tickle me endlessly.. Nicely warming in the winter on the sofa and pretty darn sweaty in the summer, out on the reclining garden chairs.
She loved her Mummy most of all – H would more than agree – and I loved every bit of her. Yes, she poohed where she shouldn't at times, yes she liked to pee on the front door mat which meant there was always one in the wash while a spare one went down by the door. But such small things, compared to the fifteen years of absolute joy that she brought me.
Mojo's special time of day was bedtime. Every night we would put Scrumpy, and now Maddie, to bed in the utility room. Mojo would eat her 'night night' nuggies, and, by the time I'd made a drink, be ready to pad right by my side up the stairs to our room. She'd then sit waiting on the bedside cabinet for me to get into bed, or would go for a drink in the bathroom bowl and then launch herself at the foot end of the bed and come running at speed up the duvet to my face, as if just walking wouldn't get her there quickly enough. She would even get under the duvet with me in winter, turn herself around so her face was out of the top and we would spoon all night – what an absolute privilege.
Am so pleased to have many a decent photo of my beautiful girl – no mean feat when trying to capture a black (with a touch of tortoiseshell) cat…
Her last hours will remain with me forever. A drink of water. A cuddle with her very tearful Mummy, who would have held her forever, if it hadn't been the best thing for Mojo to let her go. And the feeling and scent of her silky fur and her purring, right to the end.
I was so, so lucky to have a cat like Mojo. To love and to be loved. Unconditionally, both ways. I will miss her hugely, and her favourite spaces in the house already seem so, so empty.
With my endless, boundless love to the smallest furry girl who gave me so much. Mojo, Mojie Bobbins, Bob-Bobs, Miss Mojo.. you were the absolute best ever. x
xxx