Mewli Mew
The irreplaceable and unforgettable Hobo. He was just one of a kind, a really unique animal, the sort that comes into your life only once in an entire life time if you are lucky; he came into mine as a ragamuffin feral waif after some sort of accident. He was recovering from a broken leg and nose and was about 2 years old, he also had a bad skin condition, flaky, scabby skin under a poor thin coat and frankly a bit of a bad attitude, he was a wild rogue after all. Hobo came with his name which he already answered to, so I never changed it. He was entirely black, complete with raggedy ears and a damaged tear duct which gave him a weepy eye; as a result of fighting for his prey and territory, -- nothing remarkable here you think. Gradually I won his trust and eventually with a little patience and understanding he turned into a prince amongst cats. It was a turn of 360 degrees, and it would have been hard for anyone to guess, in fact, I'm sure people did not believe his difficult beginning in life; scavenging and living off vermin as a feral brat. But this creature was a survivor and full of love and optimism and he actually just decided all by himself that he adored people. He would sit and flirt with any passerby, and he invited himself or was welcomed into at least two people houses that I knew of; he was just so devastatingly charming, where, oh where did he learn that? The answer is that it was just in him, waiting for the right circumstances to nurture his beautiful tender nature. With a better diet and grooming he grew himself a beautiful thick coat, and I was so flattered one day when a passing older gentleman asked if I wasn't worried that "someone may steal him? Because he was so beautiful as well as so friendly, he looked like a very expensive cat!" It just shows that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder - well bless him for saying that, I am sure if Hobo could've understood he'd have thought himself the Cats Whiskas. But, yes he did turn into a very bonnie boy, nicknamed by me, Mewli Mew, in recognition of his chattering banter. Hobo loved company, I know he got very lonely and bored when I was at work so he made new friends, and he learned to communicate very well, he had about 15 cat words, for example his" hello" was different to "hello, I know you". He would sit on the bin outside in the garden for a good vantage point and talking mostly to himself he would call in recognition, a very distinctive chirrup as some one he knew as a friend was coming up the road, then he would wait for them in front of the gate to be greeted and petted by that person. I never had a cat that did that. I think, he began to think his full name was "Hello Hobo", because he became so used to people calling to him and talking to him. He was intelligent and responsive and polite - which is really saying a lot for a cat. He waited for a word and a signal to jump on your knee, and understood and responded to the request signal to get down if you wanted to move. Any one new coming to the house he would do his "hello" and quietly waited for the signal to approach them. If someone didn't want his overtures they only had to hold up their hand and say quietly "no" and he always respected that and just stayed at a distance watching them with interest and mellow eyes. Like lots of cats he waited for me coming home, and he recognized the sound of the car, he came out to meet me, even if it was pouring down and I had to dry him after wards, he liked that. He always came when called, with the exception that he couldn't hear me because he was snuggled up on some ones knee in their house. But he knew I was his Cat Mama and I know he loved me the most. I could write a lot more about the connection I had with this small animal, still have. I didn't think I would be able to have another cat after Hobo, because it was such a shock to lose him so young, well, in his prime. Thinking positively I had the pleasure of this fantastic creature in my life for nearly seven years. I also have the solace to know that the life he had with me was a good one, he was as happy as a cat in clover! I have always had cats in my life one way or another until they were really quite old; so I was not sure I would ever shake the sick feeling I got when driving home subsequent to losing him remembering the day I found Hobo, his tiny body had been wrapped and placed under the camellia bush in my front garden; with a note through my door from neighbours who saw what had happened. My first reaction was disbelief, this petite frame was unknown to me in death, unrecognisable without the enormous personality and affectionate spirit I knew as Hobo. He had also been badly injured and this contributed to my bewilderment, but there on his neck was his collar and name tag with my phone number on the back. I was overwhelmed and taken a back at the sense of loss I felt for this insignificant creature. I wrote the following verse for Hobo at the time to attempt to express what he meant to me. Miss you still my little Mewli Mew, rest in peace in your garden. Three years on and neighbours still talk about him and what a fabulous cat he was, a one off.

FOR HOBO - MY LITTLE MEWLI MEW

You Dark as the night with those eternal emerald eyes, you padded right into my heart.
And when you ran, fleet foot, with joy to greet me, how then my spirit leapt to meet you.
Your wild past in a moment melted away, memories those cold lonely days.
You sought company and affection; you learned a way with people.
You talked your sweet cat talk my little Mewli Mew

How great that bond, how fine, how strong, we shared,
Yet crafted only within the bounds of freedom.
Such happy days free to hunt and run, or to lie in the sun.
Oh what affection you learned to steal and what attention you craved and sought.
The world was yours in your revere my little Mewli Mew.
Little black bandit, you stole my heart, ... and now it bleeds.
Whoever can understand the unspoken and unconditional love,
From man to creature and creature to man? I can, I can, my little Mewli Mew, ... I can.
Small slinky hunter searching out your pray, you darted my heart and there it stayed.
Your sound, your soft voice, the words, I understood them all.

A hundred times, a thousand times you must have crossed that road,
Visiting your friends not so far from home.
Taken in your prime, battered and tossed asunder.
Left alone to lie, left alone to die, no care to stop, .... It cuts like a knife
Sudden and quick, life over in a moment, snatched by a speeding reckless driver.

How can they know the pain, know the loss, know the hurt so deep?
But I know Mewli Mew, I know, ... I know.
You were left alone to lie so still, left with only dying breaths, ... left alone in death.
If only I could have been there to comfort you, and to carry you limp and warm away,
Your lifeless little body lies where I must bury you today.

No more warm welcomes, you're not waiting there to meet.
No sight nor sound of hurrying tiny feet, I'm holding on a breath, then wishing on a prayer,
But that empty sinking feeling replaces disbelief.
My bonnie boy, my darling boy, ... I can't hear you mewling.
Mewli Mew, Mewli Mew, ... can't you hear me calling you?

No more good mornings and never more goodnight, No more knee cuddles or creeping into bed at night.
No rolling in the grass, or driving in the car, no more, no more, ... never again.
Only this last goodbye for you, my little black panther, just one of a kind.
There is no creature that can replace you, no creature great or small,
there will never be another one, not one like you at all, my little Mewli Mew, miss you, miss you, miss you.

Louise Frank BA(hons)