mirabelle rufflebottoms

My sweet Mirabelle…  This is a difficult story to tell.

I am a dog person … through and through.  Still, I have always had at least one cat in my life at any given time … through childhood and adulthood.  And while I used to think that I loved my cats of the past, the day that Mirabelle sauntered into my life, a hard reality struck me: turns out I only really liked my previous cats.  Liked a lot, but still, ‘liked’.

Mirabelle is — paws-down — the first cat I fell in love with.  If you’ve truly and deeply loved a cat before, you get it.  She is Cornish Rex, adopted at 5 yrs of age, May 2015, from the amazing cat rescue Chatopia in Montreal.  I had longed for a Devon Rex or Cornish Rex for over thirty years, but as someone who had always rescued, I never imagined I would ever have the pleasure of sharing my life with a Rex.

Mirabelle was one of forty cats (and sixty dogs) seized in a mass-breeding/ puppymill situation in Quebec.  Chatopia worked hand-in-hand with the Montreal SPCA to find homes for all of these poor animals.  I was fortunate enough to connect with Maggie at Chatopia just as the case was nearing its conclusion in the courts, so I was ready to drive up to Montreal as soon as the ruling came through, to go see little Mirabelle (originally named Agatha) and a couple of others.  Even though I was one of the first in line, a lot of these lovely Rexes were already spoken for by the time I got up to Montreal … but it hardly mattered.: Mirabelle knew I was hers.   As I stood in the middle of the large communal cat room with Rexes and other cats wandering around me, it was Mirabelle who refused to leave my side, winding through my legs and demanding to be picked up.

Mirabelle made herself at home very quickly here at scruffy headquarters.  Matea was her favorite, and she could often be found lying on top of my big girl.  She did not come without health issues, including a number of dental problems that needed to be addressed with the removal of more teeth than she has left in her tiny head. Mirabelle was fed a raw diet, and her coat doubled in thickness, with luxurious Cornish ripples.

NOTE:  I have fed raw for well over a decade to the dogs, and other cats.  You can read more about raw-feeding here.

Sadly, I now write about Mirabelle in the past tense.  Not because she is no longer on this earth, but because she is no longer with me.  A big part of me does NOT want to tell this story, and I’ve put it off for over a year … but it should be told because those who have had to make a similar heartbreaking decision will understand … and those who have not, who are quick to judge and condemn, need to understand.

It was in two years leading up to Covid that I realized I might not be capable of providing Mirabelle with the best home.  I had brought not-so-sweet little Mowat into the scruffy fold — ironically as a companion for Mirabelle — and no matter how much time and effort I put into their relationship, it simply was not ideal for Mirabelle.

The thing is, I put a monumental amount of thinking and research into the decision to bring a second cat into my home for Mirabelle.  After Mirabelle lost her one feline friend, it was clear Mirabelle was lonely.  I saw the cats of other Rex guardians … sleeping and grooming and playing with one another.  I longed for a relationship like that for Mirabelle again.  From all of my research and digging, I knew that the best fit for Mirabelle was another Rex (they really are unique and quirky cats).

I also knew that a kitten would be the best choice: (a) Mirabelle would adjust better with a younger cat, and (b) a kitten would adapt better to the dogs.  For over two years I searched and was on waiting lists for any kind of Rex kitten or similar oriental breed coming into rescue.  And as time crept on and Mirabelle grew older — for her sake — I decided I couldn’t wait any longer.  So, in mid-2018 I brought home Mowat, a Devon Rex kitten.

Mowat was one of five boys … a rough and tumble kitten, and very typical of any Devon … the perfect playmate for the still very active Mirabelle.  I spent weeks and months with proper introductions, separate rooms, swapping spaces, supervised play, etc. so that Mirabelle had ample time to put Mowat in his place as a bratty youngster.  But – for whatever reason – Mirabelle would merely hiss and run, becoming Mowat’s absolute favorite chase toy.  For the next two and a half years, I worked every angle with these two, but it became increasingly clear that Mirabelle was not happy.  She spent the majority of her days and nights in her heated cat cave here in the office, reluctant to come out to be pounced on, and as much as I hated the idea, I knew something had to change.

Please understand: I have never given up on an animal. I have had some difficult rescue animals in the past who required a lot of work and rehab … sometimes the kind of work that was initially outside of my scope.  But never, NEVER have I given up on them; I would adapt and learn and make the impossible possible.  I used to swear that even if I ended up living on the streets I would never give up my animals.  And yes, I’ll admit, I was even one of those who quietly judged anyone who rehomed an animal, regardless of the situation, because *I* had always managed to make things work, so why shouldn’t others remain committed to do the same?

But cats are different than dogs … they don’t always adapt the way you hope, no matter how long you give them … and when you put their happiness and well-being first, well, sometimes that hard choice is the only one.  Don’t misunderstand: I could EASILY have kept Mirabelle here.  She was the easiest keeper I ever had … the best-behaved cat I ever shared my life with … and I loved her so deeply.  But keeping her was not the right choice for her, and that was paramount.

Some might argue that Mowat should have been the one to be rehomed as Mirabelle was here first.  But Mirabelle was the better candidate for rehoming. Because I’d had him from a kitten — and because he didn’t spend all of his days in a heated cat cave — Mowat was extremely bonded to me, whereas Mirabelle would be happy with just about anyone who gave her cuddles and provided her with a few spots to catch some sunrays.

And so … on a miserable and heartbreaking afternoon in early January 2021, I handed my beloved Mirabelle over to a relative stranger in a mask, on my snowy porch.  Because of Covid, I did not have the peace of mind that would have come from visiting her new home and sitting with her new owners to get to know them.  They were friends of a friend, and we had exchanged a good many messages prior, but still … it felt so utterly wrong.

In the end though, it was all about Mirabelle’s quality of life and her happiness … and today she shares her life with a calm, respectful female Devon and a small dog, a couple and their teenage daughter … and enjoys all the sunbeams she desires.  I miss her every. single. day.

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