I have a few thoughts to share about Merlin.

Let’s face it, Merlin was a quirky cat. Quite lovable and yet not one to give love or trust for a mere nuzzle, or even a meal for that matter. Though he was known to hide in closets when family or friends showed up, Merlin somehow knew how to be selective in all the right ways. He came out for the grandparents. He cuddled Mom when she stayed at Lizzie’s on the UWS and swished between the legs of her troops of friends that came to visit. Grumpy and maybe a little judgmental, he also took to his grandfather, actually sitting next to Pop on the couch in 822 when he came to feed him. I remember Pop saying, ‘I actually like that cat. I don’t know why.’ Maybe something Merlin himself might have said about Pop.

When I met Merlin, I frankly wanted to pull him up by his collar and give him a firm little shake just to let him know that I was the sister, but he didn’t let me get close enough. Each time I visited Liz from out of town, he sat in a remote corner peering from behind a speaker or a chair. Or he just stayed in the closet until the last minutes of my visit when he would come out for a short hello. Sometime around the end of when Lizzie lived with Susan in Windsor Terrace, Merlin decided to be my friend. I think it’s because he knew that I knew that he was the HCIC (head cat in charge). He came and sniffed my ankles and my hand and let me pet him and even get a few brief snuggles in. This friendship lasted for years until I broke the trust and had Navah.

Navah was like the George Bush of Merlin’s world. She came on the scene, changed old laws, raucously threatened him and monopolized his kingdom with tail pulling and slaps. She was two and then three and then four and never really knowing better. Part of Lizzie’s job when babysitting Navah was protecting poor Merlin from his nemesis. When Lizzie traveled I often fed Merlin and spent time alone in the apartment with him. He would gobble his food and then sit next to me on the couch just listening to the environment now that a new being inhabited the silence. On one visit I brought Navah. Merlin came out to see me and when he saw Navah, he turned and ran back into Lizzie’s little bedroom. When he finally came out for his food, he walked past me in the hallway and on the way looked sternly up at me as if to say, “What the hell did you make her for?”

The most basic truth about Merlin for me is that when I lived far away and I thought about Lizzie living alone or even with a partner, I always thought about the kitty keeping my sister company. He was a good companion because he was a true companion. A complex little spirit not easily bought or sold, and in the end totally devoted to his master (no SM pun intended there sister). We will always love and remember Merlin.

P.S., a quick note about faith:

Right after Merlin’s death, Lizzie turned in some recently renewed meds for the cat in the hopes that they could be passed along to someone else who needed them. When Lizzie turned these meds in, an employee (and Merlin’s cat sitter) noted, “I was wondering why you had renewed these.” An off-the-cuff comment that let Lizzie know the employee hadn’t thought Merlin was long for the world.

Lizzie of course had renewed them. She and Jason had faith in Merlin’s life and in the idea that they would know when he was no longer really Merlin, but just a walking sick body. They knew him intimately enough to know when that spirit was dying down. Lizzie and Jason both had faith in the entire lifecycle – in letting Merlin live and in letting him die. I am amazed at that kind of grace.

I encourage you all to share your memories and stories about Merlin with Lizzie and Jason. Sometimes people forget how hard it is to lose a pet.