Hello readers! I have a bit of a departure from the usual interviews this time round, as my interviewee is at Rainbow Bridge! His name is Muffin, and he was the brother of @PhoebePurr.

Hi Muffin, and thanks for taking the time to speak to me all the way from RB! Could you tell me a little about yourself, please?

Hi Morris. Greetings from the Rainbow Bridge. I was born in Scottsdale, Arizona in the fall of 1997. When I was just a few weeks old, the teenagers in the house were getting ready for a party and not paying attention, and one of them slammed the bathroom door on me. I don’t remember it of course. All I know is that I could never run like other kitties do, or straighten my hind legs even when I groomed myself, until I got here to the Rainbow Bridge.

Oh my, what an awful thing to happen for both you and the teenager. How did you get to your forever home?

I’m a Maine Coon and very smart. When I first saw the nice couple who adopted me, I knew they were the ones I’d been waiting for. I was still pretty tiny, but I staggered forward and asked my new papa to pick me up. I fit in the palm of his hand. They took me home that very day — I was their Christmas present. They didn’t notice I was lame until they got me home. They called the breeder to ask what was wrong with me, and were told the story. I guess the breeder was afraid my parents would give me back, because she refunded their money. Ha! Even then, my parents would never have given me up. Although I have to admit I was pretty expensive, vet-bill wise. My parents thought I was worth every penny, and they were right.

Awww, that’s lovely. You must have been so happy with your family. What was life like with them?

I really loved my family. I always wanted to be wherever they were, and as long as I was in the room with either mama or papa I was happy. I used to concentrate really hard and beam my thoughts at them. I think they understood me pretty well, considering they were only human. They sure tried, anyway. I was never much for meowing. I liked to beep and chirp instead, or make noise with my feet to get their attention. You know, thrum the springs on the doorstop, or bang the drawer pulls back and forth, or maybe rattle the blinds with my paw. They’d say, “Why don’t you just meow like any normal cat?” But meowing’s too easy. I preferred a challenge. I got my point across anyway; everyone always marveled at how expressive I was.

Did the damage to your legs from your accident cause you any trouble?

I guess male Maine Coons are supposed to weigh 15-25 pounds. Even at my biggest, I only weighed about 8 pounds. Maybe my body understood that my back legs couldn’t hold any more weight than that.

At first, everyone hoped my legs would heal, but they never got any better. That didn’t stop me from playing! I couldn’t run, but I could scamper like a rabbit. I couldn’t jump, but I could roll over and bat things with my front paws. I couldn’t kick, but I never wanted to kick anyhow. My whole life long, I never growled or hissed at anything or anybody — not even when my parents got me my favorite toy ever, my brother Oreo. I was eight by then, and at first I wasn’t sure about Oreo. But I never hissed at him. And sure enough, by the end of the second day I had figured out he was the greatest gift anybody ever got me. He loved me and played with me and was always gentle. He let me be the alpha kitty, even after he grew to be twice my size.

Sounds like you had a smashing time with Oreo! And I hear you became quite famous on the Internet. How did that come about?

This is the picture that made me “Internet famous.” My mother took it while I was beaming my thoughts into her brain. She sent it to I Can Has Cheezburger with the caption “U BLINK FIRST.” It became a classic.

But even a world-famous LOLcat can’t live forever. Eventually I got kidney disease. The vet thinks it might have been related to the scar tissue from the injuries when I was little. My parents fought very hard to keep me with them, and I fought too. I really, really didn’t want to go where they couldn’t follow. But over the course of about four years, eating special food and getting fluids under the skin and laxatives and so forth gradually worked less and less well. During the last year or so of my life, I would get sick and then rally… and then get sick again, and then rally… I never, ever complained, even when they would give me enemas. I knew my parents would never do anything to hurt me. I trusted them absolutely, even when they gave me pills and other awful stuff. I did try to beam it into their brains, you know, that I didn’t really like pills, but they must not have understood. (Because I’m quite certain that if they knew I didn’t like it, they would have stopped doing it.) I know they loved me as much as I loved them. Once I heard my papa say that if he could have given me his own kidney, he’d have done it. But on September 14, 2009 I just couldn’t go on any more. They carried me in their arms to the vet’s office one last time, and I looked right into mama’s eyes as I passed onto the Bridge.

It was terribly difficult for my parents to let me go. The vet told them I never would have made it to twelve years old without them, but they still took it hard. The house seemed empty and haunted without me, and Oreo was confused, so they didn’t wait long before they got Phoebe, another Maine Coon. They needed a new little face to brighten up the house and distract them from the pain of losing me. For their sakes, I hope it works. But they haven’t really lost me, of course. I’m waiting here for them.

Muffin, thank you so much for telling your story. It must be a great comfort to your family to know that you’re waiting for them.

Tagged as: @PhoebePurr, kidney disease, lame cats, Muffin