Rest In Peace - MooMoo

"We do not have to use verbal language.  We communicate in silence.  We need not talk about love, harmony and peace.  we live in them."

- Pitu

MooMoo, I saved his life and he saved mine

My marvelous, magical MooMoo died on Thursday April 17.  MooMoo was one of the four critter angels that helped me in my ascent to animal consciousness.  He now joins the other three, Habibi, Bagel and Cookie Man at Rainbow Bridge.

Anyone meeting this wonderful cat for the first time might have been left with the impression that he was a curmudgeon.  In reality, MooMoo had a heart that contained the love of the world for me.  Ironically, he died from heart failure. 

He first came into my life about 14 years ago when I received a call informing me that there was an abandoned cat wandering the hallways of an apartment building in Brooklyn. When I arrived at the scene poor MooMoo was sitting on the landing of the buildings’ top floor. In the corner of the landing was a pile of cat poop. Judging by the size of the pile I estimated that he had been there about seven to ten days. No one in the building knew anything about him. He just sat there looking like a lil’ Buddha. He wasn’t doing much except being. He warily watched me as I approached him. MooMoo let me touch him which I later learned was a big deal because he did not appreciate being touched by strangers - and he let them know it.  He was put into a carrier and off to my Manhattan apartment we went. As days passed Moo became my constant companion. I frequently felt as if he was talking, conveying his pearls of wisdom to me. I’d turn around and he’d be lying there silently as he did on the landing some weeks before.

I remember smoking a cigarette on my sofa with MooMoo at my feet. There was a loving feeling in the air and plenty of smoke to go with it. Suddenly I was struck by the fact that I was hurting him through my second-hand smoke.  The potential for tragedy was made even greater by the possibility of my apartment catching on fire should I forget a lit cigarette somewhere. That scenario prompted me to take drastic action.

At that time I smoked three packs of non-filtered cigarettes a day. I had enough self awareness to understand that I would not be able to control my addiction to ensure MooMoo’s health and safety. The only way to completely cut the risk was to completely stop smoking.

For years my brothers, all of whom are doctors, were trying to convince me to quit smoking. They would bring home x-rays of damaged lungs and stories of patients suffering from chronic smoke-related illnesses and even show me copies of smokers’ death certificates. I listened to them attentively as they recounted patient horror stories while a cigarette dangled from my lips. Suffice to say fear had no effect on me.

As I sat there smoking I could have sworn I heard MooMoo cough. Whether he did or not till this day I do not know, nevertheless it was this epiphanic moment that love accomplished what fear had failed to do. That day I put out my cigarette for the last time.

For this, I am eternally grateful to MooMoo and to the power of love.

The last time I saw MooMoo alive he had his back to me in much the same way as he was depicted in the documentary The Witness where he was facing a closed door appearing to be looking for a way to leave my smoky apt. I guess this time he really left. As my friend Jim said: “MooMoo now knows what’s on the other side of the door”.

Good luck on your journey my little boy. I will always have a special place in my heart and, of course, lungs for you. I will always love you. Thank you for being in my life.

Farewell Crrrrrrrr-eamy (Moo’s nom de plume)

Till we meet again

P.S. Say hello to Rizzo and everybody for me.

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