Fish

Adopted in 2013 at 1 year old from the rescue WSKR (We Save Kitties at Risk), Fish’s original name was Merlin. I thought the coordinator had said that his name was Marlin and I commented “Isn’t it funny that they named this little cat after a big fish?” From that moment on, I started calling him Fish as a joke nickname that turned into his real name. His large, beautiful eyes are what captivated me upon first sight. I remarked that he reminded me of the scene in the Shrek movies where Puss in Boots looked up with his big, sad eyes. Fish was extremely anxious and he was afraid of loud noises and fast movements. He would run away at the mere possibility that someone may quickly walk past him. With me though, he was different. For some reason he understood early on that I understood his fears. He noticed that I walked softly past him while gently whispering “It’s ok Fishy, you’re ok.” If I reached over him or moved something large or made a loud noise, he still looked at me with concern but he didn’t dart away to escape like he would if it had been any other person. In this way he had begun to choose me as his human. As time went on I grew to be very attached to Fish. Something about him just felt right and we grew closer every day. When the day came that he was set to be taken to the rescue group’s adoption event, I made the call. I told the coordinator that Fish would not be attending and I would like to give him his furever home. That is exactly what I gave him for the next 13 years that he spent in my life. He was so much more than just a cat. When I looked into his eyes I could see a soul and I could see lucidity and intelligence. When I talked to him, he never meowed until I was finished speaking. He looked up at me as if he knew exactly what I was saying. He was by my side through several completely life-changing events which uprooted our life and started it all over from scratch. Each time he was just happy to be by my side. He taught me so much about feline behavioral psychology. My husband and I truly built our home around him and he was a central part of our lives in every way. Strong smells, high frequency noises, non-cat-friendly essential oils, etc. were all forbidden in his home to ensure his comfort. He loved to be next to me, but he didn’t particularly enjoy sitting or laying on me or in my lap. It took him 8 years to finally walk onto my chest one day after I sat down following a long shift at work, and curl up for a nap while purring softly. I cried as I watched that new level of trust unfold before me. He always came to me for comfort and company which was mutually beloved, and that is the thing I am struggling with the most during this time of loss. We became so in tune with each other that I could tell what each of his noises meant. I could tell from across the house whenever he found a bug that had made its way inside because he had a specific inquisitive meow almost like he was saying “Oh hello bug friend, what are you?” In his final years he enjoyed going outside with my husband to explore the sights and smells of the yard and chase crickets, crane flies, and grasshoppers. We got extremely lucky with Fish because he never tried to run away like our other cats in years past were known for. He also never tried to eat any of our houseplants or scratch any of the furniture. He was such an exquisitely well-mannered gentleman and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to find another feline friend quite like my little Fish. We called him many things such as “The Boy” and “Sun Bun” and “Catfish” and “Merlin cat” but the truest nickname for him was “My Son” as it truly captured how much he meant to me and our little family. To the world our companionship may have meant nothing, but to my husband and me it meant the world. I will dearly miss burying my face in his fur, giving him the “booty bongos” which he loved, petting him from his forehead to the small kink at the tip of his tail, receiving his head butts and slow blinks of love, and just taking such comfort and joy in the fact that there was this living being which could communicate so much to me without a single word being spoken and would always be happy to see me no matter the day I had had or the negative opinions that myself or others had of me at the time. Fish offered unconditional love and acceptance and brought me true happiness and love. My husband and I said goodbye to Fish on the warm back patio which he loved, surrounded by the chirping birds and the bugs which he loved as well. He gazed upon his kingdom for the last time. Dr. Kenzie Quick with Lap of Love was absolutely incredible and she came very soon after we called. She brought Fish the gift of peace and eternal rest. His final moments were totally free of pain and fear. His last sights, sounds, and sensations were of his two favorite humans comforting him and telling him how much they adored him. We cannot express how much it meant to us to be able to send Fish across the Rainbow Bridge in such a peaceful environment and in such a compassionate way. I don’t know what may come next when we pass on, but my deepest wish is that I get to see my son again, youthful and full of life just as I remember him and we get to pick up right where we left off in this life. R.I.P. Fish Mello 2012 – 2026