In Memoriam

Mamu

May 1999 - November 2011

 

Twelve years ago Megan convinced us to bring home a small calico kitten from North Logan's Wal-Mart parking lot where a family was giving away a litter of kittens. Kevin named her MAMU: an acronym for Mass Adjusted Mouse Unit--a measure of how much tetrodotoxin should be injected into a snake of a given size to measure resistance (from Dr. Brodie's research of garter snake/newt coevolution). She was Tibby's companion (our Abyssinian cat) and later became Comet's friend (our orange tabby who joined us after Tibby's kidney failure).

Mamu's hobbies included hiding in boxes, drinking water from a dripping sink, stepping into the shower as soon as it was turned off, getting fur all over newly-washed clothes, and sitting on the lap of whomever was working on the computer. She did not care for people food and would rarely jump onto the table, but she did like to chew on flip flops and sandals. If April ever left her pincushion out on the sewing table, Mamu would pull out the pins with her teeth. At night Mamu preferred to sleep at the foot of the bed and would get upset if locked out of the bedroom. In Logan, Mamu frequently woke us up in the night by beating her paws against a wobbly closet door. She did not like to be picked up and held, but would purr quickly if given attention. Mamu was a polite conversationalist and would always meow back if meowed to.

Mamu was quite jealous when Ian was born, and she would not come onto the bed if he was with us. For subsequent children Mamu adjusted more easily. One time in Logan she went missing for several days. It turned out she had accidentally been shut into a neighbor's garage (one that they did not open too often). When she returned she would no longer leave the house, and this behavior persisted for years. 

When we moved to Yuma we were surprised at how quickly Mamu adjusted--she even started venturing outside again. She became more active and playful and was very happy here until a few months ago when she became violently ill. The veterinarian's diagnosis was pancreatitis, and supportive care was basically the only treatment. She got better, but not all the way better. She was still happy but had recurring bouts of digestive trauma (we'll spare you the details).  This week she took a turn for the worse, became unable to eat, and we made the difficult decision to say goodbye. 

Mamu, we will miss you and remember you with fondness.
Thank you for sharing your life with us.