My Mellow Yellow

I still remember the day we brought him home from the vet. Our cat Ashley had just been put to sleep with breast cancer and it was the first time in our lives that we didn’t have a pet. When I was born, I came home from the hospital to find Pete, my first best friend. I didn’t know life without a cat. My brother and I were allowed to get two and there were a group of three kittens that had been found together behind a Taco Bell. My brother wanted to name one Taco and the other Bell, but I quickly vetoed that idea. I instantly fell in love with the first one I saw: gray and white, full of energy, bright blue eyes. This one I named Dylan. Dylan’s brother was a spitting image of Ashley and we knew we couldn’t get him for that reason. The third cat was a week older and from a different litter, but had quickly become part of the Three Musketeers. He was playing a game of “secret agent” as I like to describe it. He’d hide behind chairs, peer out, pounce across the room, jump five feet in the air, dart behind another cabinet and so on. He was obviously a little bit “out there” in terms of being mentally aware, but the three of us (my mom, my brother and I) fell in love with the crazy kitten. Unlike Dylan, a name didn’t just pop out for him. The nurse made an off-hand comment that generally he was a pretty mellow kitten (compared to Dylan and the Ashley look-alike) and so my mom said “Ah, Mellow Yellow.” That’s how he got his name.

He was a strange cat. The only one I ever knew to not land on his feet 100% of the time and to breathe with his mouth hanging open. He went through a phase of eating bugs. He liked to laze around on his back with his legs in the air in a patch of sun. He was always keen for a snuggle and was sure to make your black clothes gray.

I remember one time while I was in college he somehow climbed up into a tree so high that he couldn’t get down. We didn’t have a ladder tall enough to reach him. We even tried to go the fire department route to no avail. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know how he got down… that’s because my family decided to wait until after everything had been resolved to avoid my hysterics. Somehow we got him down, but it’s a story I’ll never forget. The fire department said no! Pleasantville was such a lie.

This past weekend he very suddenly fell ill. Kidney failure. He was only 8 years old. I know that putting him to sleep was the right thing, as long as he felt no pain. It’s just something that I wasn’t prepared for. I never thought that the day I left for the airport would be the last time that I got to cuddle with my crazy Melly. He was the sweetest cat and never failed to make me laugh. I have endless stories and fond memories of my babe and there are no words appropriate to describe how much I’ll miss my little lion.

My Mellow Yellow.