This site uses cookies for analysis (statistics) and to inform about using cookies.


Copyright © 2003-2018
Webdesign: (-[PREDATOR]-)

Steam Community


After 13 years of living Mona has passed away to the happy hunting ground. Regardless of veterinarian interventions and applied medicines, the cancer fatally won the fight for her life.

I will remember her curious look in the pair of pistachio eyes, surrounded by pitch black fur with red traces, seen only under intensive light. Mona had very delicate fur, while I’m used to the rough hair of other cats. Almost to the end, she could motivate herself to play; despite of her advanced age and the illness. The catkin didn’t even let anyone trim her claws. She’ll remain as my little, although slightly civilized monster, or demona. Mona was afraid to leave her home, except for oestrus phase - the time of adventure. After all, she could show her claws in a vet, piercing trusted welding gloves of the person, who has just ignored our advices to not use bare hands for holding this cat.

I’m in the belief, that the existence of Mona at home reduced mouse activity to zero. When she was young she caught few mice and that was it. Although catching didn’t mean killing, so the mouse was still conscious in agony and I had to finish it.

Along the passing time I’ve been gaining more and more catkin’s trust. I’ve also learnt some communication tricks. That was like a common language, because she mostly wasn’t reacting to human commands, except for turning her ears. Gazes and gestures were more effective. Cat could exploit the difference between being in the room or home among others and staying alone. When something smashed up we could find out if cat was the guilty one - she was, if she ran away from the scene; she wasn’t, if she rushed to or stayed at the scene. Mona hasn’t got a habit of eating from other’s plate, though she was sometimes interested what was on it. She went away after just smelling other’s food, or rarely waited to get a share.

Mona had few stages of asking, especially when the bowl was empty. At first, she patiently waited till the bowl was refilled. Then she came over and sat close to me looking directly into my eyes, when I turned my head to her. Another phase, if so far ignored, included patting my lap with her paw. No claws included. When she finally lost her patience, she started to meow. Once, when left alone at home for too long, Mona opened a cupboard, pulled the box with cat food inside dropping it on the floor, what caused crisps to scatter, allowing her to eat. Generally, Mona could ask for bowl replenishment, even if she didn’t eat afterwards. Possibly, that was for a reserve. There were also other requests, like to turn the water on through tap in bathtub, or to lift her up or down to the storage just below the ceiling.

The catkin wasn’t the only animal in the household - there were plenty of other, including budgerigars, or shell parakeets (Sonia and Oskar) and guinea pigs (Kubuś and Pusia). Adding my experience with other animals, I’ve learnt, that the stereotypical human is just a grate hypocrite. He’s not as unique as has been told. Animals also have their consciousness, feelings (as pain) and can hurt others in the variety of ways, can even wage wars against other groups of their kind.

After the loss, the sensation of emptiness and sorrow flooded my home, deepened by the cold autumn aura and notion of incoming All Saints’ Day. There will be no more waking up by Mona, when I sleep too much during a free day. No more summoning her with my gaze, or with intriguing scent from my leg after the work. All of that reveals the great influence that Mona had on our lives. She will be missed. May the eternal hunting joy her.

The gallery with Mona’s pictures can be found here.