As I recall, I bought “Homer’s Odyssey,” the story of Gwen Cooper’s adventures with her blind black cat, while I was waiting to board a flight to Italy a few years ago. It was one of those (rare) books that I just couldn’t put down…

I laughed, I cried, I worried, I loved…so many different emotions…a wonderful book. Since then I’ve read quite a few other cat-based books (the one about Dewey, the small-town library cat, e.g.). But Homer was special. I fell totally in love with that extraordinary little cat…a cat with two big strikes against him: he was black AND blind. I don’t understand why this is the case, but people don’t want to adopt black cats. And a blind black cat? Forget it. But Gwen adopted Homer, and her life changed. And, thanks to her and thanks to Homer, the lives of many blind and/or black cats have changed, too.

My first cat was black…this was a looooong time ago, when I was a child. And so was my second cat, Micia, who had been abandoned in a field where I’d gone with friends to attend an Inti Illimani (= a Chilean folk music ensemble) concert just outside of Florence, Italy, many many years ago, when I was in my late teens. As we were making our way across the field to find a good place to sit down and enjoy the concert, I noticed a German shepherd running around and barking loudly at a bush. A group of children were yelling that he was after a kitten. As soon as I heard that, I zoomed over to the bush and eventually managed to grab the terrified, tiny black kitten hidden inside, holding her high above my head so the dog couldn’t reach her. I walked away, then tucked her safely inside my sweater, where she cried desperately for a while, then fell asleep, exhausted.

Needless to say, my friends and I didn’t attend that concert. I remember sneaking home, trying to be really quiet so as not to wake my parents who didn’t want any more cats (though they are huge cat lovers)…But my Mom heard Micia’s meowing (from hunger at that point, poor little sweetie!) and walked into my bedroom. I told her what had happened at the concert and reassured her that within 24 hours I’d find a family, another family!, that would adopt Micia. Well, I did find a family for Micia: our family. From the very start, in fact, it was clear that she was going to be our cat. And when we moved back to the United States, a few years later, Micia came with us (inside the cabin with us, of course). Micia had a good life and gave us much joy. She died on Cape Cod at age 16, the same age as Homer…our beloved Micia. 

So it’s no secret that I love black cats. As does Stefano. And now we have a black cat, our Prezzemolo, who was very ill when we adopted him and still has a chronic sniffle and sneeze. Perhaps because of that, we love him even more, if possible…

Oh dear. Sorry for the long digression…

Back to Homer now. I remained “in touch” with Homer via Gwen’s Facebook and blog updates. And that is how I knew he had not been doing very well in recent months. Well, a few days ago I read Gwen’s devastating news: at age 16, Homer had finally been put to sleep…

I wept almost as though this had happened to one of my own six cats…

It brought back memories, wretched wretched memories…of when I had to put my beloved Canadian cat, Keshé, to sleep…She was still young, just five years old, but had kidney failure, and there was no hope (I’d even learned how to give her I.V. fluids in a last-ditch effort to save her life…). Keshé’s suffering, which didn’t last very long (I couldn’t bear to see her in so much pain and begged the vet to put her out of her misery…which she finally did…) made me realize that I would like someone to put me to sleep should I ever be in that much pain. But of course that—euthanasia—is not possible for humans, not here in Italy, at least…Hmmm, that could be fodder for another post, in fact…but not today…

Here is Gwen’s sweet and loving tribute to Homer published in the Huffington Post: http://goo.gl/uu3qZO 

Get out a box of Kleenex before you click on the link…