MSI Press Blog

  Most people never live with a nineteen‑year‑old cat. I’ve lived with two. That alone is extraordinary. For a Himalayan, it borders on miraculous. But what astonishes me even more is how two cats could reach the same rare age and inhabit it as if they were living in different universes. Murjan: The Cat Who Filled the Room Murjan, my Turkish Van, was a force of nature from the moment he arrived. He didn’t walk through life — he announced himself through it. At nineteen, weighing less than five pounds after years of lymphoma and three and a half years of chemotherapy, he still: patrolled every room jumped on and off exam tables explored new vet offices like a tourist on holiday demanded his daily leash walk supervised every creature in the house communicated constantly, loudly, and with purpose He was alpha to the end — a cat who refused to surrender even as his body thinned to nothing. He left a footprint everywhere he went, and when he moved, he left a wake. Murjan didn’t age. He...

  Some cats pass through your life. Murjan lived in mine. He wasn’t just a companion — he was a presence. A cat who sat at the Thanksgiving table in his own chair, waiting politely for his plate because he knew he belonged. A cat who walked on a leash like a gentleman explorer, then let the other cats parade him around the house afterward, leash trailing like a royal sash. In the evenings, we had our conversations. I’d talk; he’d listen, then answer with a slow, deliberate lick to my hand. Back and forth, like two old friends catching up after a long day. And when he was done, he’d rest his head on my lap and drift to sleep, content. He had opinions, too. When we moved without consulting him, he staged a full protest: escaped outside, rolled in mud, marched back to the door, shook it all over the floor, and stalked off — message delivered. Nineteen years with him wasn’t enough. But every memory is still warm. Happy Caturday, Murjan. You were one of a kind, and you are stil...

  Excerpt from Surviving Cancer, Healing People: One Cat's Story (Sula)   Greetings, World! My name is Sula. I am told that I am a very attractive cat. A bit rotund, I am a domestic shorthair with a very luxuriant and fanciful white coat, accented by greyish-black bangs and a greyish black tail. I am almost ten years old, a big girl now. I live by choice at Old Mission San Juan Bautista, the latest in a long line of mission cats, and I am a cancer survivor. Supposedly, I am a Turkish Van cat by breed, but I doubt that I came here from Turkey. On the other hand, I don’t know where I came from. I don’t think it really matters. I am here, and I like being here. Moreover, I have a mission and a Mission. What more could any cat want? As a cancer-surviving Mission cat, my chore is to heal people who, like me, must overcome burdens in their lives. (I am so very glad that I do not have the same mission that previous Mission cats had: ridding the Mission of mice and rats. I think they...

  Carl and Murjan sharing a Thanksgiving dinner Gaudete Sunday is coming up--an oasis in Lent, and, like other Sundays, a time we can eat a full meal! If our beloved Murjan were still with us, he would be perching on his chair next to Carl (wish he, too, were still with us, 2021 stole two beloved members of our family), savoring the smells of the fat of the land (well, maybe, of pancakes -- he at those, too), and patiently (yes, he was a patient cat, almost humanly patient) for his share of the feast to be chopped up and presented for his enjoyment. Each of our cats had quite different personalities, but the two that stand in stark contrast to each other are Murjan and Intrepid . They were both born in Jordan, lived with us there, and came to California with us 15 years ago. Both are now on the other side of the rainbow bridge, ravaged by the same kind of cancer, feline lymphoma. Intrepid is interred with his devoted human to whom he was equally devoted, Carl, and Murjan's ashes ...