In Memoriam of Nando
Nando was more trouble pound for pound than any living creature — perhaps that’s why we loved him so much. He suffered perpetual health crises throughout his life. He even put me in the hospital for a week one time, though it wasn’t really his fault. He regularly inflicted indignities on his elder cat companion, Boris, who, nonetheless, ultimately learned to cope. Nando, in his prime, was truly a cat with attitude.
Remarkably, in his last six months of life, we discovered that he was a great traveler — dog-like in that regard. He proved to be flexible and adaptable — glad to be with us wherever we went. Thus, he saw the highlights of Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and of course, Jersey. Finally, too fragile to be left in anyone else’s care, he flew to San Francisco with us (how many cats get to see both coasts?) where he spent some good days and some bad — one such that we summoned a mobile vet, thinking he was ready to depart. (This turned out to be his third stay of termination; he kept having micro-rallies to prolong his time with us.) When this unfamiliar vet chirped cheerfully that he’d be over in two hours, unprepared, we froze and desisted — after which Nando purred vociferously for a full 25 minutes — for the last time. This was, undoubtedly, his thank you for a lifetime of service-cum-devotion.
He made it home, after which our contract with the Universe expired, and it was clearly time for the final good-bye. He remains forever in our hearts.
A wonderfully saucy kitty, who seductively prompted a person to give him abundant petting and cooing, perhaps on one’s lap, to be followed without any provocation by an unambiguous nip. Also known to have leapt onto the Passover table, and in the ensuing mad dash by the host to remove him, to have dug into the elaborate tablecloth to cause a Jerry Lewis moment for all in attendance. In all, a beautiful and mysterious guy, who let you know he had been around and deep down truly was thankful to his loving owners.