In Memoriam, Willow

I first met Willow in January of 2014 in Boston's MSPCA.

Inaptly named Arsenal at the time, he was gaunt, dirty, and so, so casually sweet. I remember when I signed the adoption papers, I was told the hardest part would be getting him into the carrier. When it was put down before him, he stood, walked right in, and curled up. So began the most magical 11 years I could've ever dreamed of.

Willow never missed an opportunity to experience a summer storm with me. He'd bask in my studio light for every art project. Carefully audit all my household chores. Inspect the watering of every plant. Stand stoic directly in front of the tv for every video game and animal documentary.

Willow was my every day, my constant, my companion. My ardor for him is unrivaled.

His coo speckled purrs and gentle, very persistent slaps encouraged me to greet each sunrise, and more importantly, feed him.

Coming from the streets of Watertown, I imagine he was never certain where the next meal would come from. So he made sure to ask just a little bit earlier than the day before, every day.

Our time was no stranger to hardship. Willow had numerous close calls over the years. With incredible support from my friends and phenomenal veterinary staff, he'd pull through. These past few years, the hardships got harder. I found myself bargaining for just a little more time. Incredibly, we got it.

On January 23rd of this year, Willow refused breakfast. Wholly uncharacteristic of this tiny lion's appetite, we went straight to the ER. His blood tests showed him anemic, suggesting cancer or blood loss. Further testing found a mass in his belly that was bleeding internally. Palliative care was our only option.

Treatment that he was provided that day, bounced him back. He was comfortable, found his appetite, and his demeanor.

January 24th, I woke to his cooing purr, and gentle bathing. He ate his fill of the finest wet foods and treats, explored the snow dappled patio, played with his favorite toys, sunbathed by the window. We arranged an at home service, so he could pass somewhere familiar. It was as comfortable and as peaceful as I could've ever hoped for.

I will never meet his like again.

He is survived by his adopted brother Bo, and everyone so blessed to have had to opportunity to meet him.

Any donations go directly to Willow's final vet bills and home service. His ashes will be spread in all the calm wilds that I wish I could've shown him. May he bloom.