We lost Lane on the 27th of March. He was my little friend and I’ll miss him. I loved him very much. Named after the laneway from which he came. Named after a Mad Men character too!
We found Lane desperately trying to get into our apartment in the spring of 2012. He just showed up in our lives and would not take no for an answer. According to the vet who fixed him, he couldn’t have been more than nine months old. He was hanging out behind our place for weeks, sleeping under a barbecue cover and from the looks of it, he was either lost or abandoned, but my money is on abandoned; that’s just how it works with cats.
We started by feeding him and making him a little shelter to stay warm and dry. We weren't sure if we could take on a third cat as we were poor students living in a small space. We asked around, but no one wanted him. We’d wake up in the morning to see him outside our bedroom window watching us, hoping we’d feed him again. We’d open the door after a rain storm and see that he’d somehow managed to get in between our screen door and main door. He rain into the house immediately. I think it was at that moment where we knew we had to take him in. His plan finally worked. I had to reward his determination and ingenuity. And what if we didn’t and he disappeared on us?
Well, we did take him in and now we had three cats in an apartment that was, at best, 500 sq. feet. It wasn’t easy, but we were happy. We loved him.
I don’t like to think too much on how hard his feral/stray kitten-hood must have been. He always had this little notch on his ear I like to think was from a fight he had no choice to get into to survive as he is the most gentle and fearful cat. He did not respond well to other humans or animals and generally hid away when we had company. I hope his early life before us wasn’t too harsh, but I know it was probably stressful for him, and his deep fear of strangers was probably a symptom of past trauma.
He was an excellent hunter. When we moved into our new house in 2015, we had a bat problem. To witness lane jump six feet in the air and capture a bat in his mouth in our attic was nothing short of magic. Nice work, Lane. Good boy! Thank you. He was also the only cat I’d ever seen play fetch. I’d be laying on the couch and he bring me an object to throw at my feet over and over. He loved it. I wish I played with him more.
He got along well enough with his house mates, but he was a solitary guy who liked sleeping next to us (always between our legs for some reason) and eating. He loved eating. He even became diabetic, but we got that under control with the help of the vet. He had to take insulin for a little while, but his blood sugar stabilized, and we didn’t have to inject him anymore. He never regained his impressive muscle mass, but he remained healthy and stable.
Eventually, Lane’s time came and he was diagnosed with cancer.
His nine lives had run out. There was nothing to be done. The X-ray was grim. It was aggressive.
Within a few days he went from the hungry, active, and just generally being himself kind-of-guy to…well it was hard to watch him deteriorate so suddenly. It got the better of him and it kills me that he had to suffer even for a moment, but we made him comfortable. He got as much food and treats as he could handle. I stroked his head and rubbed his belly as gently as I could. Eventually he stopped purring, as the pain was too great, I’m sure. He was such a happy cat. The doctor came and she very gently put him to his eternal rest on our bed. Over thirteen years old is a hell of a great run, but it wasn’t enough time. It never is. I wanted him longer.
I wish I could have him back.
Bye my little guy. Goodbye Laney. I love you.
