Sleep Well, Milú

Milú was born in our barn almost eight years ago. He was one of a litter of seven and the only one still living after a year. From the beginning he wanted to be with people and would climb on my father's shoulder and sit there. He was born with health problems, though. His tail was broken at the tip probably since before birth. His eyes were always teary and no amount of drops would clear them completely. He would get diarrheas and had problems with his teeth. But he didn't seem to care.

He was a very tranquil cat. He lived for eating, sleeping, and finding a warm lap. If someone was sitting down and he was nearby, he would try to squeeze himself onto the available lap. He didn't care who it was. He even tried to crawl into my students' laps if they let him. He avoided violence at all costs. Sometimes two of our other cats would get into screaming fights and he would find a place to hide, only coming out hours after the disturbance. He simply wanted everyone to be friends. When my daughter brought home Anton, whom she found as an abandoned kitten, Milú was the only one who would play with him. The others would hiss at the newcomer for a few weeks until they got used to him. 

He was a grand eater until he fell ill. One of his nicknames was Little Fattyball. A few weeks ago he started losing his appetite. I didn't think anything of it until he started to lose weight and would only look at his food. At first I thought it was just another small illness he was going through and that he would start eating soon, as he had done before. But he didn't. I took him to the veterinarian and they told me the worst news. He had an aggressive tumor near his kidneys. He quickly went downhill and left us last night. Till the end he would look at me and try to crawl into my lap. All he wanted the most was love. And love was what he gave us most.

Sleep well, little Milú.