Finis Montecor

Montecor died 28 March 2018 in the arms of Lanette Dietz, who cared for and did her best to socialize him and his brother Antares.

After I mismanaged the crucial 3-9-week period in which feral kittens can be turned around, the kittens took refuge in the basement. Furtive incursions into the main floor became more frequent as years went by but if anyone other than Lanette approached them, they darted downstairs.  Neither could be caught to be taken for medical checkups, which is why Montecor’s condition –probably a brain tumor or blood clot — wasn’t diagnosed until partial palsy set in and a mobile veterinarian was summoned to the house. 

Antares (left) and Montecor in November 2005,
during their brief period of socialization.

Lanette’s accounts and photos gave me a glimpse of the personality he repressed when I rarely visited:

“Monty defined the word sweet; he was an unassuming gentleman who loved to chatter at the squirrels and head butt the dogs.” ...  “Monty developed a quirky habit. When I’d let the dogs in or out, if any leaves blew in he’d collect them and carry them to his couch. Cleaning his spot yesterday I found more leaves behind the cushion. That little pack rat!”... A day after his death, Lanette sent me a note: “It’s weird being in the kitchen without Monty on the counter following my every move or putting his paw on my back when I get ice from the fridge ... “

We can only imagine the full measure of what trust could have brought up in Montecor, and may yet in Antares. The certainty that we spared them an early death or a mean life in the city brings peace of mind.

Yes, there was something cockeyed in Montecor that preserved the innocent, endearing  appearance of a kitten. Small cat, small life we longed to hold closer and longer.

The brothers in March 2018 -- reasonably tame at last,
three days before Montecor (right) died

...  and finis Antares

On 3 June 2019,  only 14 months after the death of his brother, Antares died, also in the arms of Lanette. It had been feared that without Montecor, he  would withdraw to their basement refuge. On the contrary,  once alone, Antares emerged tame and demanding of attention. He awoke in the morning vocally asking for breakfast, petting, and attention. ... like those 14 years of self-imposed isolation of the brothers never existed.

It was a good year for the last survivor of the murdered mother cat and her two sons. Their lives could have been more joyful had I been wiser.  The medication treatment had made them fear me. Instead of letting them have the run of the house as soon as  it ended, I should have kept them in their comfy room for as long as it took to regain their trust.  Once they discovered a basement to hide ... well it was over.

On the positive side, they lived 14 years in a comfortable home, in the company of other pets, and wanting for nothing. As I see it, however, a Pyrrhic victory for them and for me.