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Slane Bannaght, Manannan mac Lir
Jul. 4th, 2022 11:23 amEarly this morning, Erica made the very hard decision to euthanise Manannan mac Lir. He had a bad fall the day before, and it had become apparent he had underlying neurological issues, and there was no chance of recovery. This is quite a devastating and sudden loss, as the gentleman feline always seemed to be such a close part of our lives. To meet Mac was to love him, such was his noble disposition and pleasing charms. Indeed, from the very moment were collected him he showed such temperament. It was early March 2009, that on a Wednesday morning I agreed that Erica could get a cat, as long as it was a Manx (I had to express my aesthetic preference). By Friday we were in a regional suburb making a choice; the mother had absconded with one sibling, Mac's sister hissed, whereas Mac simply flopped on my shoulder and started purring: "I think we're taking this one", I remarked. He sat on my lap the entire rainy journey home, purring in happiness, being removed only for a short time when the car stalled and need to be pushed from localised flooding.
What would follow would be happy years in Ripponlea and Willsmere for Mac. At first, we thought he would be an enormous cat on account of his legs and paws; it turned out he simply had longshanks, which he would use to great effect bolting about the Willsmere Estate; I have never seen a domestic cat run as fast as Mac could. Another characteristic was his enjoyment of being upside down; following a hug, he would prefer to get back on the ground via a backflip and really liked stretching his legs out to do it at distance onto a bed or couch. Sharing a house with other animals, he was always well behaved. He bonded with the rabbits and guinea pigs with ease and, quite curiously, also with the various pet rats over the years. Mac considered the pet rats to be part of the household (but woe to any wild rats on the Estate), and on two occasions (December 2013, April 2016) protected them overnight when they had escaped to the front garden. Never prone to anger, he would nevertheless protect a neighbour's younger feline from the predations of a local rough cat through an ambush. It was one such circumstance that he received a nasty head wound. His sense of adventure greater than his wisdom would lead on two occasions becoming quite stuck; one on the roof of our three-story townhouse and once almost 6m up a tree. On both occasions, I somehow managed to get him out of trouble.
It is not death that brings me to tears. That has always struck me as a natural and inevitable part of living. Rather, it is how humans treat the lives of others, how they treat themselves, and how they treat the environment, that generates melancholy within. I will grieve privately and quietly, reflecting on the memories and experiences that brought joy to life. I feel a great deal for Erica, who was even closer to Mac than I was, and whose disposition will bring great sadness to this event. Her new Manx kitten, the appropriately named Fragarach, the sword of Manannan mac Lir, will have to step up to being the cat of her life and will have to live up to his name. As for Mac, the mythology tells us that he will sail to the paradise of Mag Mell, the Celtic Otherworld, and rule there with wisdom, strength, and noble bearing; just as he did in life.
What would follow would be happy years in Ripponlea and Willsmere for Mac. At first, we thought he would be an enormous cat on account of his legs and paws; it turned out he simply had longshanks, which he would use to great effect bolting about the Willsmere Estate; I have never seen a domestic cat run as fast as Mac could. Another characteristic was his enjoyment of being upside down; following a hug, he would prefer to get back on the ground via a backflip and really liked stretching his legs out to do it at distance onto a bed or couch. Sharing a house with other animals, he was always well behaved. He bonded with the rabbits and guinea pigs with ease and, quite curiously, also with the various pet rats over the years. Mac considered the pet rats to be part of the household (but woe to any wild rats on the Estate), and on two occasions (December 2013, April 2016) protected them overnight when they had escaped to the front garden. Never prone to anger, he would nevertheless protect a neighbour's younger feline from the predations of a local rough cat through an ambush. It was one such circumstance that he received a nasty head wound. His sense of adventure greater than his wisdom would lead on two occasions becoming quite stuck; one on the roof of our three-story townhouse and once almost 6m up a tree. On both occasions, I somehow managed to get him out of trouble.
It is not death that brings me to tears. That has always struck me as a natural and inevitable part of living. Rather, it is how humans treat the lives of others, how they treat themselves, and how they treat the environment, that generates melancholy within. I will grieve privately and quietly, reflecting on the memories and experiences that brought joy to life. I feel a great deal for Erica, who was even closer to Mac than I was, and whose disposition will bring great sadness to this event. Her new Manx kitten, the appropriately named Fragarach, the sword of Manannan mac Lir, will have to step up to being the cat of her life and will have to live up to his name. As for Mac, the mythology tells us that he will sail to the paradise of Mag Mell, the Celtic Otherworld, and rule there with wisdom, strength, and noble bearing; just as he did in life.
