Merle

My little man kittie.

Watercolor losing Arden yesterday made me miss my Merle so much. He was such a good cat.

I adopted Merle after I started commuting to Dallas. Ringo got to where he was SO clingy (literally under my feet BEGGING for attention) on the weekends when I got home, that I decided he needed a companion. There was a girl at work (I'm sorry to say I don't remember her name) that had some kittens needing homes so I went over to her house and immediately fell in love with this little, tiny, orange tabby with a big M on his forehead. (I wish to goodness I had some pics of him, but he was pre-digital so I've got to do some digging).

Because of the "M", I knew his name was supposed to begin with it, but just wasn't "feeling" a name for him. Generally, as soon as I meet a cat I know what the name is supposed to be. Not with Merle. At the time, I was reading a novel where the lead character's name was Max. That didn't feel right. I was living in a little two story cabin up on the reservoir and my lil sis was staying with me a couple of times a week. She knew I was trying to "feel" the name for my new baby. One night, I remember it well, she walked in and proclaimed "I've got it!" "Merle!" I knew immediately that was the name. No, not Merle Haggard, no, not anything remotely resembling an association with anybody. The name "Merle" just felt right.

I'm one of those that believes that a cat's name cannot sound anything like any other cat you may have. Yes, I do believe cat's recognize and understand their names (unlike some people). But I knew, as soon as she said it, that was his name. Merle. Perfect.

Merle ended up being THE solution to my problem with my clingy cat, Ringo. I left EARLY on Monday mornings and wouldn't get back till Friday night commuting to Dallas. Lil sis was there a couple of times a week to feed, and at the time, I had a screened porch with an automatic litter box that took care of "personal" stuff.

I'd get home on Friday evenings and Merle and Ringo would just have the BEST time! I took pictures and would enjoy them all weekend. Then came the move. I moved to a house outside of Raymond, proceeded to get laid off and ended up moving to my shop. Of course, Merle and Ringo moved with me.

I'll have you know that when I finally got a little cottage 3 blocks from my shop (which had then closed due to the economy and running out of funds), he went EVERY day to "work". I knew he left every morning at daylight and didn't return until the sun was going down, but I wasn't sure where he went during the day. Then, one day I found him inside the shop (lots of access through the metal walls) and realized that he was going and spending his days "tending shop". Bless his heart. It was like he was responsible to make sure everything was okay there while I had gone back to work in the real world. I'm talking EVERY day. He left in the morning and would come home in the evening just like it was his job.

Then, a year ago at Thanksgiving, I came home after a couple of days with my parents and found him on the hassock, lying in a typical "Merle" position, but he was dead. I have no idea why. There didn't appear to be any trauma. He was only 5 years old, which is young for a cat. I called my friends in Crystal Springs and they offered me a place to bury him. They took a backhoe and dug a grave. Friend and a guy that worked for him reverently carried his box to the place and placed him in the grave. Friend's wife read a poem and we all cried. I will never forget that, ever.

Oh, and we had stopped by the former shop and got a stepping stone that Friend's wife had done a mosiac in. Friend had carved "Meryl" in the stone. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't spelled right. It doesn't matter. My baby boy Merle has a fabulous place to rest in peace. This is a pic I took while sitting next to his grave.

And right now he's doing his "job" and showing Watercolor's baby, Arden, the ropes in heaven.

The tree he is buried under...

Rest In Peace my darling Merle.