#32: Goodbye, dear Muffin

You were the best boi

May 06, 2025

This edition is unrelated to the typical themes of First Draft. It is a personal piece for posterity, without an intended audience, but you are welcome to read it.

I lost my cat.

He was just two and a half years old. He was perfectly fine and thriving. In the early morning last Friday, a nasty thunderstorm popped open a window in my apartment on the third floor. We realised it too late. By then, Muffin probably slipped or jumped from the window.

We found him bleeding and panting. We rushed him to the hospital. They tried, but Muffin’s body gave up.

His untimely death still feels like a fever dream. He was an unbelievably good boy. He was special, and I knew and appreciated it every single day. I always woke up and slept with immense gratitude for having someone as precious as him in my life.

I am glad we lived each day to the fullest. Even in his short life span, he has given me unlimited fond memories and happiness. This post is a tribute to Muffin and his quirks.

Coffee time, every day: he would hang out in the kitchen while we made coffee, and then follow us to the dining table. He made his presence felt by sleeping on my hand or putting his butt near my face while I tried to do NYT Games.
Coffee times with Muffin
Bathroom watch: He never let me do my private business alone in peace. Or so I thought. I now realise that having him with me was peace. He probably thought he was keeping a watch for any danger while I was in a ‘vulnerable’ situation.
Muffin giving me company in washroom, typically followed by sleeping in the sink
Trying to save litter expenses: one day, I was brushing and noticed Muffin randomly peeing inside the toilet. I believe some cats require much training to do this. But no one taught him that; he just started doing this on his own and continued to do so occasionally.
Answering the call of nature like a gentleman
Expressive and excessive love (and licks!): he was basically a dog in a cat’s body. Unlike a typical cat, he had no shame in expressing his affection, and he gave a lot of licks with his sandpaper tongue. Sometimes, he would lick my head, but he had not been doing it lately. I suspected my hair was making it uncomfortable for him. So I got a buzz cut 2-3 weeks ago, but had no luck with the head licks. He probably outgrew that habit.
Jumping over the cabinets: once he sensed I was about to escort him out of the kitchen, he would instantaneously jump over the hard-to-reach cabinets. He sometimes did it without any apparent reason and slept there for hours. He did not come down even after being offered treats.
Muffin in high places
Random quirks: he wasn’t interested in cat treats or even human food (my other cat, Mowgli, goes crazy over both). Muffin loved beverages of the strangest kinds for a cat: black coffee, juices, and electrolytes. He tried to lick our cups and glasses. Obviously, we stopped him, but sometimes he was too sneaky. He also loved going inside boxes and often got entangled with delivery bags.
Muffin knocking off books, hiding, and tearing things
Sleeping on and around me: he rarely missed any chance.
Muffin sleeping on and around me
Eye contact was a tricky business: If he was close and you looked into his eyes for more than a few seconds, he would whack you. But if he was a bit far and you did that, he came running to you. I proudly summoned him using this trick without any verbal or physical gestures.
Muffin staring
Everything was a pillow: he loved resting his head on all kinds of things.
Muffin resting his head on various objects

He also obstructed the screen while I worked, but eventually settled for sleeping somewhere on the desk.
Muffin sleeping during work hours
Being the naughtier one: Muffin was about 4 months old when we adopted him. Mowgli, at about 1.5 years, was the adult. Naturally, Muffin looked up to and imitated Mowgli. Over time, he grew into his own and became the naughtier one. He even bullied Mowgli occasionally. But there was incredible mutual love between them.
Mowgli and Muffin together

I still grab two packets of wet food during their meal times out of habit. I was reasonably aware that our daily lives are intertwined, but I feel its depth and strength only in retrospect. Without him, my morning coffee routine has not been giving me joy. It is instead a painful reminder of what I am missing.

But each subsequent day has been better. I think healing compounds. The 5% progress between Day 2 and Day 3 may feel insignificant. But give it a couple of days, and you are effectively back to normal.1

I am glad to have treasured Muffin and given him my full time and attention each day. The only regret I have is that it all happened so quickly that I could not say goodbye.

I have wallowed in sadness enough over the last few days; now I want to treasure these memories with fondness. I hope this piece continues to exist in some corner of the internet forever, immortalising Muffin.

I mean ‘normal’ here in terms of how we generally feel about the day, on average. A part of you changes irreversibly, but that’s the case with life anyway. And yes, not all days will be better than previous ones. There are fluctuations, but it smoothes out over time.

First draft

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