Cat: Mocha (Snow Shoe) – Wilsonville, OR (1998 – Dec 24, 2011)
Mocha was just a kitten when he was found under someone’s air vent under their house. The founder took him door to door asking if he was theirs. My dad fell in love with him, an adorable little tyke with a white underbelly and black raccoon mask with light colored fur that eventually darkened as he got older.
We took him in immediately where my dad came up with the name, Mocha for his colored fur mixture was like the drink. That was 1998, nearly 14 years ago.
Over those 13 and a half years, Mocha had gotten into a fair share of troubles, one night coming home after escaping outside, only I to look for him, nearly giving up and praying to god he’d return safe with his companion Latte’, another kitten we had found that same day as he.
He came home as I waited past midnight all excited to be home. But the next morning we found he had been bit and his leg became infected. After costly surgery he was fixed up good as new causing trouble like it was no one’s business.
He was always a very friendly cat, we had taught him all sorts of tricks and he knew his name very well. He’d even quietly respond to you if he felt the need. But he always understood two things, “Come here Mocha!” and “No!” Mocha was Always happy when I came home, always wanting to be rubbed, his belly scratched and told goodnight before I went to bed. Over the near 13 and a half years, I always felt his death would come without my knowing, missing, alone, afraid.
Sadly, on Christmas Eve of 2011, while only a few feet from my bedroom door where he liked to watch me work hoping I’d invite him to my room like usual, went into convulsions dying in my mother and I’s arms. It shocks us greatly that such an active member of my family, a healthy if not stocky snow shoe cat, could die so suddenly, on a blessed holiday such as Christmas.
Mocha is gone now, the pain weighs heavily on my heart, but grateful that my dad, who took him in, who lives so far away now, was able to see him and say hello and merry Christmas just moments before his death.
I will miss his loud purrs and his hungry attitude, always begging for the noms he enjoyed, and the rubs he received. Running to my bed as I talked to my girlfriend, or playing games with me to get a purr. Looking out my bedroom window to see the activity near by.
Good bye Mocha, a member of my family who I will always remember and cherish our friendship so much. I miss you buddy, I miss you.
I will always love you,