DBG did not have a column last week because her old friend Mo passed away. She did what any thoughtful pet owner would do and wrote a eulogy for him, but apparently The Advocate will not run DBG’s obituary for a cat.  So here is the story of Mo.  He lead a very unique life for a cat.  

 

“Mo Myers” aka “The Big Mo” AKA “Big Creepy”

1997? to March 19th, 2013

 

Mo Myers of Baton Rouge passed quietly at the age of 16 plus on March 19th, 2013.  Mo began his life journey in the Chelsea district of Manhattan.  He fashioned himself as a handsome young cat on the town and a tireless advocate for gay rights.  After a brief internment at a shelter, he adopted a human and moved to Brooklyn where he spent many years before moving south to the state of Louisiana.  Over the years, his family grew.  His impetuous dog-brother, Ignatius J. Riley Esq. and his peevish dog-sister Guadalupe de Chihuahua survive Mo. Although he never completely understood them, they all shared a great love of lying in the sun together. Late in life, he adopted a cat-son he called Goudchaux.  His adopted mother, Leanne, and Tim, his ever-faithful houseboy, also survive him.

 

Mo was a mouser and an athlete of the highest order. He often worked as a freelance bounty hunter and helped many humans rid their homes and apartments of rodent infestations.  He never let his God-given talents go to his head. When asked about his professional successes, he would say, “I’m just an old gay Tom cat.” In his spare time he enjoyed killing birds, taking showers, looking out windows, and eating Meow Mix.  When meeting Mo for the first time, people often commented that they heard him long before he turned the corner and came into view because he was an especially gentle soul who was always purring loudly for everyone to hear.   

 

In his later years, he spent most of his days sitting on the cable box or perched on top of the hot water heater.  He was very pleased to have lived to see gay marriage legalized in his native state of New York. Even in his retirement, he still had the strength to leap up on top of the washer/dryer.

 

He would never want any of us to be sad about his passing and would want us all to know that he is up in the Studio 54 in the sky standing on stardust and talking to Truman Capote about the character of Cat in Breakfast at Tiffany’s while glittery birds rain down upon him.

 

In lieu of catnip and white doves, the family asks that memorial donations be made to Project Purr Baton Rouge or that you happen into a shelter of last resort and take a chance on a no-name slob who will steal your heart, turn into your defender and always be your lifelong friend.Image

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