Honoring Mouse: A Cat's Legacy

Over two decades ago, in the first year of our marriage, we began rescuing and adopting cats. Throughout the years, we have learned so much about love, devotion, joy, and yes, the sacrifices that come with caring for animals, particularly as they age and face various health challenges. Caring for another life is a commitment — a lifelong one that we fully embrace.

In late August 2024, our beloved Tuxedo cat, Mickey, was unexpectedly diagnosed with a malignant lymphoma. His oncologist recommended an aggressive chemotherapy protocol (CHOP) to give him the best chance at remission. Sadly, due to unforeseen complications, Mickey passed away the day after his first treatment.

His loss was devastating, as it always is when we lose a dear friend. In reflecting on his passing, we asked ourselves many questions:

Did we do everything we could? What did we miss? How can we prevent this in the future?

The week after Mickey’s death, a stray cat followed me home. She was a tailless Manx with a unique waddle, almost a swagger, and an adorable little bunny hop that we had never seen before in a cat. She immediately showed an affection we had never experienced, and a clipped ear indicated she was part of a TNR (Trap-Neuter-Return) program.

At first, we thought she had simply lost her family, so we made efforts to find them but were unsuccessful. It felt right to name her "Mouse" in honor of Mickey. We woke up one day and saw her fast asleep on our doorstep. It appeared she had chosen us as her home. We felt an immediate connection and decided to help.

Given her frail condition and jaundiced appearance, we took her to the vet for a full workup. Sadly, she was diagnosed with acute liver failure due to hepatic lipidosis, a condition caused by not getting enough calories.

An ultrasound and aspiration confirmed our worst fear: she had the same diagnosis as Mickey. The irony was crushing. Because of her failing liver, we could not pursue intensive chemotherapy as we had with Mickey and had to balance treating both her liver and the cancer as best we could.

To our surprise, she made great progress. Her jaundice began to fade, and within a month, she gained a full pound (now weighing 8.4 pounds). She loved eating rabbit and homemade food and frolicked happily in Mickey’s garden, visiting his memorial stone and favorite tree. She soon claimed our home as her own, thoroughly exploring every bed and cozy spot.

However, her recovery was brief. Her treatment required multiple emergency visits, blood transfusions, and countless moments where we feared we were saying goodbye too soon. It is hard to say which is more difficult: mourning after the fact or mourning in advance, knowing what’s coming.

We are grateful that Mouse never minded the hospital visits. She adored the staff, and they quickly fell in love with her.

On 1/26, Mouse woke up, ate her food, and went outside to play in the yard. It was a warmer day in the south and she explored the yard. Ate outside and came inside for treats. She laid in her favorite hammock attached to the window in our kitchen. She went exploring around the house. Dinner came and she was tired. She walked slower. She hid under our sofa. We knew something was wrong. We took her to her room, and I decided to stay up with her. I knew that if this were the end, I would not let her pass without me being there to hold her and let her know how good she was and that she was loved right until the end.

Mouse stayed in her bed, I pet her, and she purred slowly. She moved to her hammock and laid her head down and I continued to pet her, letting her know she was safe and that she was loved. Her breathing became softer, her eyes looked tired. She had trouble getting up after some hours. I had to hold her up to use the litter box. She cried a few times. I could tell she was nearing the end. I decided to take her on one last ride and say goodbye to her rather than let her suffer for longer hours and die naturally from what could be a painful agonizing final hours. I told her I loved her, and she went to sleep. Mouse lost her battle. Her final trip to the hospital was peaceful, and though her loss is deeply felt, we take comfort in knowing she is no longer suffering.

I told her I would make sure the world remembered her. That she was not just an unwanted cat dumped in our neighborhood, but a member of our family that would be immortalized in the blockchain forever. Our first and only cat to ever have this happen. The XOX team has been amazing to me. The XRPL community who knows me and how fondly I spoke of Mouse has been so supportive.

This is $MOUSE. This is my baby girl who is being immortalized today. We will never let this coin fail. We will ensure her memory lives on forever. Because she deserves this. She left us too soon. But we will ensure that everyone knows her name and knows that she was loved.