Marcel was one of those cats that was larger than life. He exuded personality and character. He was one of a kind. There will never be another Marcel. He was cool, calm, collected, brilliant, loving, charming and powerful. His stare penetrated right through you. He could size you up in an instant. He could “see” right through you to the depths of your soul. I’m just glad he couldn’t talk! He even growled and yowled at a couple of people who came to our house with negative energy. When he set his eyes on and stared at a fellow cat—only the strongest and most confident cat survived his stares, the rest spun around and ran for the hills yowling and screeching in fear the whole way–and this lasted for years. He intimidated his own species with his aloof coolness and inner power, but he melted the hearts of human beings. Everyone that met Marcel, fell madly, deeply, and truly in love with him. Marcel spoke the language of the love, he was heart-centered, and that was his gift. Marcel was simply irreplaceable. An icon cat. He was the cat’s meow. The bees knees. A total beauty. And he graced us with his irreplaceable spirit and life, and we were blessed to be in his presence, every day.

If Marcel could take an IQ test, he would be in Mensa. He was scary smart. Both street smart, intuitive, and intellectual. They say cats’ intelligence equals that of a 3–4-year-old human, but not Marcel. Marcel would have given Bobby Fischer and Garry Kasparov a run for their chess money, and knocked out Oswald Jacoby, America’s best all-round card player. But IQ and aptitude aside, Marcel’s smarts could not hold a candle to his beautiful heart. Marcel was a lover. He was the Don Juan or Clark Gable of cats. The world’s greatest cat lover. 

Every morning and night, Marcel did this precious and unforgettable thing to express his love. When we were lying down watching TV or in bed–prone, Marcel would come up to each of us, and lay down on our belly, and reach out and extend his big, heavy, furry paw on our face, acknowledging us for several minutes. He would just meditate on our face and eyes, while purring loudly and happily, then when he had shared and transferred enough love and affection, he would walk away and lay down next to us. He was so acknowledging. He did what many people don’t do enough of. He expressed his gratitude daily for the things he was thankful for. And let us know how he felt about us in the sweetest way imaginable.

As Marcel would have his big furry paw extended in appreciation for us, usually on a facial feature or our hand, he would let out this grand, loud, steady purrrrrrrr. You would think a big rig or 18-wheeler was nearby. His purr matched his big personality. When Marcel purred, you could not help but listen! It consumed the space. It was like the dishwasher was running in the room. But in these moments, Marcel was just content and wanted to express it. Unlike in his final days and weeks, where his purring was more likely an effort to comfort and console himself, and heal himself. 

Marcel was big. But he was even bigger in his early years. He was big boned, part Maine Coon, had a big round belly, and grew in his early years to a strapping 21 pounds. At around six years old, I put him on a kitty diet, and he gradually lost six pounds over about one year and maintained that weight for the rest of his life. His weight never budged from 14.5 pounds, until the last couple months of his life. Unfortunately, old age and disease seems to go along with weight loss, even when you are zealously trying to avoid it. In his final month, it became a losing battle to keep his weight on, and Marcel lost two pounds in two months, hitting rock bottom at 12.5 pounds. But he was still a great big gorgeous cat, and a huge hunk of burning love in every way. Marcel was a stud man, a badass, the coolest dude in catdom.

Not only was Marcel a strapping handsome boy, a smart boy, and an empathic boy, he was a healthy and happy boy all of his life. He enjoyed the company of his many loving kitty mates, he loved life, loved sleep, loved his garden and sage plants, loved the grass, loved us, but he loved food the very most. Above all else. But being a dominant personality, and the ruler of his roost, he was also a little aloof. That was Marcel’s cool factor–aloofness. He was king of his kitty jungle and he knew it. All of our cats knew it too. He was the king. His charisma and charm were undeniable—his piercing eyes could make the most confident cat drop to their knees and literally fan him in reverence and respect. He was Omar Sharif in disguise. 

But Marcel’s heavy weight started catching up with him in the form of arthritis. Carrying that big, jolly belly around put a lot of pressure on his joints over time, and he began to walk more stiffly in his final years. In his last year, he could no longer jump up onto beds or couches or laps. We built a carpeted plank for the end of our bed to help get up on the bed, so he could give us his “acknowledgement paw pats,” and he proudly marched up and down the plank, somehow knowing it was made just for him. Such a confident guy. But in his final year, Marcel’s front and hind legs started getting worse. He was less active, slept more, struggled to get up from sleeping, and would walk then stop and rest. Although cats cannot die from arthritis—and there is no cure—there are many things you can do to help them be more comfortable. For Marcel, I gave him Glucosamine and Chondroitin supplements in the form of Dasuquin For Cats, every morning and night in his food. Then each week for four weeks, followed by once a month, Marcel got Adequan injections to help relieve his pain by helping inflamed joints and stimulating cartilage repair. This was done periodically for a year, off and on, and made a difference.

But what brought my powerful, strapping, beautiful boy to his knees in the end, was severe Chronic Kidney Disease and ultimate kidney failure. One thing I always do for my cats is get a blood test/urinalysis for every cat every I have, every single year, and for my older 15+ cats–twice a year. That way, I can pre-empt physical problems, treat the early signs of disease, and assess their general health. Marcel had two blood tests in 2020, and by September 2020 he started showing the very early signs of possible kidney disease. But he did not display any clinical signs like weight loss or decreased appetite, lethargy, nor any physical signs like dehydration, ulcers or kidney problems.

It was not until spring of this year, that I noticed very large volumes of urine in the litter box, he was drinking lots of water more often, and peeing frequently. I had moved to a new place in February, and the stress of the move could have triggered his symptoms. So, never wanted to risk their health, in Marcel went to my vet in early May 2021. But to my deep disappointment and shock, his kidney values had become alarming high, and a sharp contrast to his values six months earlier. Now he was suddenly in advanced Stage 3 (out of 4 Stages) with dramatic clinical and physical signs like nausea, dehydration, extremely high phosphorous levels (the killer), lack of appetite, and anemia. Now 75 percent of Marcel’s kidney tissues were damaged. His kidneys could no longer conserve enough water or remove waste materials accumulated in his blood and body properly. Toxins were rising now in his bloodstream and he was being poisoned by waste products that could not be removed quickly enough. Marcel was dying. But all I could think, is not on my watch!

So I threw everything at this disease that I could, and became a quick study on CKF in cats. With all of the cats I had rescued in the past, I had never had a CKF cat. So I stayed up late reading Tanya’s Comprehensive Guide to Feline Chronic Kidney Disease—the literal Bible for CKF. Then joined the life-saving Facebook group called Feline Chronic Kidney Disease Group and shared Marcel’s story. The readers responded, advised, counseled, made recommendations based on their experiences with CKF and shared what worked for them. But it was too late. I was in a race against time, and I was losing, time was winning. Marcel already had very bad days of nausea and wouldn’t eat, followed by a very good day of eating. But there were more bad days than good ones now. I had replaced all his higher phosphorous foods with the lowest phosphorous foods possible, but time was working against me, and his disease was already so progressed and advanced, and as his phosphorous values went higher, he didn’t want to eat and I could not get his phosphorous-binders in him through his food that he needed. 

Marcel was now anemic. And I knew his anemia was contributing to his overall malaise and weakness. The only drug available to treat anemia is Darbopoentin, which is worth like a gold Krugerrand or one bitcoin. The day I took Marcel in to my vet at Four Corners Veterinary Hospital in Concord to get this much-anticipated Darbopoentin injection to help his anemia, I could tell Marcel was ready to let go. I had been holding out waiting a week to get this drug, but it was only a band-aid on the problem. The blessing was that I had made my appointment for Tuesday, the last day my vet worked for the week—her surgery day. It was like God created this window in her otherwise extremely over-scheduled, hectic surgery days—just for me and Marcel. Together, along with her skilled and wonderful assistant, examined Marcel, thought about what was ahead for him, that the anemia drug would not improve his kidney disease, nor lower his sky-high kidney values, and we all decided it was best to let Marcel go. He was suffering now, I could not make him better, and he was getting worse. I felt the stars aligned at this moment for him – and instead of putting him through more days of misery to see if I could get his phosphorous values down and his anemia treated – I decided to seize this opportunity to bring him peace. So today, Marcel is at peace, even though it broke my heart to do it. I set Marcel’s spirit free. Marcel was 17 years old and had lived a beautiful, long kitty life, where he knew every day he was loved and cherished.

Some backstory. I met Marcel when he was only four weeks old as a darling kitten. He and his five siblings had been removed from the animal shelter where they were dumped. I became his and his siblings’ foster parent. Never adopted—they were all returned to the non-profit that sponsored them, and sadly, wound up living for three years in cages at my veterinarian’s office in El Sobrante (a different vet than my current vet). I could no longer bear seeing them there every time I visited–all were miserable, felt deep boredom, had anxiety, and were chronically licking and removing their fur. So my girlfriend adopted Marcel and his brother, fortunately. What a blessing for both of them. She found Marcel was one too many cats with her three-cat household, and gave him to me. Or back to me.

We had all come full circle in this life, and I know that we will once again– in heaven. I will see Marcel for the final time and for forever, then. And I hope he will be waiting at heaven’s door for me! I will be so happy to see Marcel again, and all the many kitty friends that we have shared our lives with. We will be one happy family once again!