Mooch Moochie Moochers

Mooch Moochie Moochers

August 31, 2024

Mooch was a hunter who adventured into our yard with caution and curiosity.  He had spent 4 years of his life hunting and porch, deck, barn, or garden shed surfing until he paused at our home. He patiently watched from afar before he decided to give us his trust.  We noted his beautiful, masked face markings, his tiger-like coat, a calico-colored belly and a raccoon tail that made up this beautiful creature. Every day, we left food that he would gulp down and run, hence his name, Mooch. He never acquired a last name as he was a soulful creature who was truly like the fabulous greats of our world whose lives were truly impactful to those around them.  In Mooches world, you might think of Garfield, Sylvester, or Siemba. In our human world I think of the greats like Prince, Cher, Pink, Adele or Bono.  Mooch’s beautiful kitty voice was always music to our ears that brought us the same kind of joy that music does and garnered him other nicknames like Moochie and Moochers.

Over a period of a few months, Mooch visited on his terms and feasted on what we left him. Eventually, Mooch decided to let us get close, to touch and pet him, something he grew to absolutely love and ask for with a call or gentle pat on your face or arm. We earned his trust, and he wholeheartedly adopted us.  Without really knowing who he was or where he came from, we welcomed him into our home, to skittishly rush around until he felt comfortable. Bringing him to the vet for a checkup and to have him neutered brought many tears and guilt, so he was greeted at home with a pate feast that became a nightly ritual.

Over time, Mooch settled in and was open-hearted to all our fur babies that came before or after him.  He was loving and patient with his baby brothers, Floyd, and Sparrow, who both tormented him with their need for playful rough housing, and his older sister, Missy, who hates all her brothers, but tolerated Mooch who respected her space and feelings more than her other brothers.  Mooch also genuinely loved his canine sister, Nyra, who was only a puppy when Mooch settled into our home.  He would often kiss and clean her face since Nyra was patient and let him. Strange humans took him longer to adapt to and he would often run and hide.  As years passed, he trusted more and loved every touch or coveted stroke or pat on the head from everyone.

We had no idea how avid or spectacular of a hunter Mooch was until he proudly left his captures on our doorstep.  Most days he left something. Like any good hunter, he ate what he caught and only left what he found not appetizing.  Mooch also had a routine.  He’d gently pat you in the face in the morning to wake you up to let him out (because he despised a litter box) or lick you on your forehead.  In his early years, he often spent most of his daytime outside, adventuring, napping, catching breakfast.  A few times, he’d stay out all night to roam and visit his friends.  Many of our neighbors were familiar with who he was, many also gave him snacks.  He would sleep in their barns or on their tractor seats and endeared himself to everyone who knew him.  He was truly a soulful spirit on Lawrence Road. When he ventured home, he would often rub his front paws up and down our glass door asking to be let in.  Those paw markings are now priceless and will take some time to clean.

As Mooch started to slow down, he spent less time roaming and more in a patio chair, deck side with us, keeping us company.  He’d chat, purr, clean himself, or climb into your lap for a snuggle. He’d roll around on the sidewalk to greet us with his purrs and meows as we came home from work, and he’d follow us around while we did yard work, and he’d plop himself nearby to watch with curiosity or take a nap.  He also liked to climb into a box of any size, suitcase or tote he wandered across to test it for napping potential. Our sweet boy hunted and feasted until the day he crossed the rainbow bridge and handled his sickness with such grace and dignity that he hid it from us well. 

Mooch may have shown up to our home as a stray, mooching food to supplement his carnivorism, but in the end he gave so much more than he ever took.  He was gracious, forgiving, loving, patient and most especially affectionate to all those he loved.  The pawprints Mooch left on his human family are forever engraved in our hearts. He gave life to our yard, our barns and surrounding property. Simply walking outside feels different. Not seeing his beautiful, masked face outside our door or hearing his deep kitty voice will forever leave an emptiness and ache in our hearts that no other fur baby will ever fill. Run wild and free in the fields of heaven Moochie Moochers. May you always know how very much you will forever be loved by your family.

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