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My family’s beloved cat Finklestein died today. I wanted to make this memorial to commemorate him.

Why don’t I tell you about him since I haven’t before?

Finklestein was born in April 2006. His mother Marble struggled to give birth to him due to how unusually big he was for a kitten and how young and inexperienced she was (I believe Marble was less than a year old when she gave birth to Finklestein). Finklestein was the only kitten who survived the birthing process that day; his two siblings were stillborn.

Finklestein used to mewl so loud and so often as a kitten that we nicknamed him “Sir Squeaks-A-Lot” at first. Then we started calling him Ninja as a kitten. Finally, we started calling him Finklestein based on an inside joke from my mother’s side of the family. My late grandfather apparently had a habit of calling anyone making mischief a “little Finklestein” for whatever reason. We also coined the nickname “Mr. F” for him sometimes, as well as “Mr. Pussy” and “Fat Boy” as he gained weight in his later years. But “Finklestein” seemed to suit him best.

Finklestein was always a loud and rambunctious cat. He was full of energy and was always up to mischief. His mother Marble had trouble raising him because he would roughhouse her and his younger sisters (born 3 months after him on July 18, 2006). My mother would always vow to Finklestein that she would beat him with a stick or a rusty shovel or [insert other blunt object here]. Don’t worry, she never did, nor did she really intend to.

My dad in particular would often get annoyed with Finklestein. Finklestein loved my dad to death, but my dad would dish out colorful insults at him and tell him to shut up and stop being a “whiner”, since he had a rather loud and nagging tone of voice to his meows. Still, my dad would feed Finklestein food off of his plate, pet him rough the way he liked it, and even drape his clothes over him like a blanket. So you can see why Finklestein loved my dad so much.

We weren’t sure why exactly we all loved Finklestein so much. He just had so much personality, energy, and charisma that made him irresistible. Almost from the day he was born, my older brother and I would often handle baby Finklestein, petting him and holding him. Thus, we inadvertently imprinted ourselves onto Finklestein, which gave him the impression that he was more than just a cat. He was convinced that he was “one of us”; he would “talk” to us as if he was a human himself. He was also a great hunter in his younger years.

But really, Finklestein wasn’t like other cats.

One time, Finklestein was sitting beside our driveway when a UPS truck came up to our parking lot. Other cats would’ve run away. Not Finklestein. He leaned over to the side to let the truck pass. My mother would recall that story for years to come.

Many people in my childhood home town knew who Finklestein was because he would wander so much. People we never met before and who didn’t live in our street saw Finklestein roaming the woods, fields, and farmland of my native Virginia. He would even encourage complete strangers to pet him. He never met a human he didn’t like.

Finklestein also had a tender side to him on top of his bravado. I’ve spent many nights with him quietly lying at my side while I watched TV, played video games, or just sat on the couch. He also proved to be a good uncle when his younger sisters had kittens of their own.

My family owned several cats over the years. Most of them came and went. But Finklestein was a major part of the family for the past 17 years. We had a few scares before. When he was almost 1 year old, he had gotten into a fight with another male cat who bit his leg, which subsequently got infected. The vet gave us the medicine he needed to take for the next few days to clear up the infection. My family also had Finklestein neutered while he was at the vet. As you can imagine, Finklestein didn’t like taking his medicine. So we made sure to give him canned cat food every time he was done taking his daily dosage. He would actually get excited to take the medicine just so he could get the canned food afterwards. Thus started his lifelong love affair with canned food. He also liked cheese and spicy food. At one point, he even developed a taste for cole slaw.

Even as Finklestein grew older, even as he gained weight, grew less nimble, and lost his hearing, he still acted a lot younger than his age. And he grew very close to me, perhaps more than anyone else in my family, because I spent the most time with him and showed him the most affection. Sadly, I haven’t gotten to see Finklestein nearly as much over the past year since he lived exclusively with my parents while I was living my own life.

And over the past month, his health started failing drastically.

2 days ago, my brother and I came up to give our dad his Father’s Day cards early and to attend our uncle’s birthday party. Finklestein was lying in the grass, barely moving. He was mostly skin and bones. His once boisterous meow was now a pitiful squeak. It was then that we all knew Finklestein wouldn’t be long for this world. My dad figured Finklestein had some kind of feline cancer.

It was one of the most heart-breaking things I ever saw.

I made sure to spend some time with Finklestein that day before we had to leave for my uncle’s party. I tried to keep it together since I didn’t want to be a downer (that, and I don’t like crying in front of people). The following day, my dad told me that Finklestein seemed a little perkier after my visit.

But today…he was gone. Neither Mom nor Dad know exactly where he went. But I think it’s safe to say that his time had come. The same fate that we must all face one day….

At least he lived to the ripe old age of 17. And I’m glad I got to see him one last time and make him happy before his passing.

I’ll always cherish the memories my family and I have of him, particularly back in Virginia. The day he was born. The times we played with him and handled him. All of the times I gave him food. All of the funny stories we had of him. That blissful look in his eyes as he would knead on the baby blankets my mother used to make. The quiet moments I had petting him and hugging him.

Here are some videos I made of him years ago on my YouTube channel, just to give you an idea of what he was like in life (at least during his older years).

m.youtube.com/watch?v=vEEmGhj8…

m.youtube.com/watch?v=5CiIgSFT…
m.youtube.com/watch?v=ha_3dNML…
m.youtube.com/watch?v=TG9sVSR5…
m.youtube.com/watch?v=vAQk_Q8b…

I’ll always love Finklestein. And I’m going to miss him so much….

R.I.P. Finklestein
April 13, 2006 - June 18, 2023

Thank you for reading. I need some time to process this. In the meantime, I’m probably just going to cry some more….

Description
My family’s beloved cat Finklestein died today. I wanted to make this memorial to commemorate him.

Why don’t I tell you about him since I haven’t before?

Finklestein was born in April 2006. His mother Marble struggled to give birth to him due to how unusually big he was for a kitten and how young and inexperienced she was (I believe Marble was less than a year old when she gave birth to Finklestein). Finklestein was the only kitten who survived the birthing process that day; his two siblings were stillborn.

Finklestein used to mewl so loud and so often as a kitten that we nicknamed him “Sir Squeaks-A-Lot” at first. Then we started calling him Ninja as a kitten. Finally, we started calling him Finklestein based on an inside joke from my mother’s side of the family. My late grandfather apparently had a habit of calling anyone making mischief a “little Finklestein” for whatever reason. We also coined the nickname “Mr. F” for him sometimes, as well as “Mr. Pussy” and “Fat Boy” as he gained weight in his later years. But “Finklestein” seemed to suit him best.

Finklestein was always a loud and rambunctious cat. He was full of energy and was always up to mischief. His mother Marble had trouble raising him because he would roughhouse her and his younger sisters (born 3 months after him on July 18, 2006). My mother would always vow to Finklestein that she would beat him with a stick or a rusty shovel or [insert other blunt object here]. Don’t worry, she never did, nor did she really intend to.

My dad in particular would often get annoyed with Finklestein. Finklestein loved my dad to death, but my dad would dish out colorful insults at him and tell him to shut up and stop being a “whiner”, since he had a rather loud and nagging tone of voice to his meows. Still, my dad would feed Finklestein food off of his plate, pet him rough the way he liked it, and even drape his clothes over him like a blanket. So you can see why Finklestein loved my dad so much.

We weren’t sure why exactly we all loved Finklestein so much. He just had so much personality, energy, and charisma that made him irresistible. Almost from the day he was born, my older brother and I would often handle baby Finklestein, petting him and holding him. Thus, we inadvertently imprinted ourselves onto Finklestein, which gave him the impression that he was more than just a cat. He was convinced that he was “one of us”; he would “talk” to us as if he was a human himself. He was also a great hunter in his younger years.

But really, Finklestein wasn’t like other cats.

One time, Finklestein was sitting beside our driveway when a UPS truck came up to our parking lot. Other cats would’ve run away. Not Finklestein. He leaned over to the side to let the truck pass. My mother would recall that story for years to come.

Many people in my childhood home town knew who Finklestein was because he would wander so much. People we never met before and who didn’t live in our street saw Finklestein roaming the woods, fields, and farmland of my native Virginia. He would even encourage complete strangers to pet him. He never met a human he didn’t like.

Finklestein also had a tender side to him on top of his bravado. I’ve spent many nights with him quietly lying at my side while I watched TV, played video games, or just sat on the couch. He also proved to be a good uncle when his younger sisters had kittens of their own.

My family owned several cats over the years. Most of them came and went. But Finklestein was a major part of the family for the past 17 years. We had a few scares before. When he was almost 1 year old, he had gotten into a fight with another male cat who bit his leg, which subsequently got infected. The vet gave us the medicine he needed to take for the next few days to clear up the infection. My family also had Finklestein neutered while he was at the vet. As you can imagine, Finklestein didn’t like taking his medicine. So we made sure to give him canned cat food every time he was done taking his daily dosage. He would actually get excited to take the medicine just so he could get the canned food afterwards. Thus started his lifelong love affair with canned food. He also liked cheese and spicy food. At one point, he even developed a taste for cole slaw.

Even as Finklestein grew older, even as he gained weight, grew less nimble, and lost his hearing, he still acted a lot younger than his age. And he grew very close to me, perhaps more than anyone else in my family, because I spent the most time with him and showed him the most affection. Sadly, I haven’t gotten to see Finklestein nearly as much over the past year since he lived exclusively with my parents while I was living my own life.

And over the past month, his health started failing drastically.

2 days ago, my brother and I came up to give our dad his Father’s Day cards early and to attend our uncle’s birthday party. Finklestein was lying in the grass, barely moving. He was mostly skin and bones. His once boisterous meow was now a pitiful squeak. It was then that we all knew Finklestein wouldn’t be long for this world. My dad figured Finklestein had some kind of feline cancer.

It was one of the most heart-breaking things I ever saw.

I made sure to spend some time with Finklestein that day before we had to leave for my uncle’s party. I tried to keep it together since I didn’t want to be a downer (that, and I don’t like crying in front of people). The following day, my dad told me that Finklestein seemed a little perkier after my visit.

But today…he was gone. Neither Mom nor Dad know exactly where he went. But I think it’s safe to say that his time had come. The same fate that we must all face one day….

At least he lived to the ripe old age of 17. And I’m glad I got to see him one last time and make him happy before his passing.

I’ll always cherish the memories my family and I have of him, particularly back in Virginia. The day he was born. The times we played with him and handled him. All of the times I gave him food. All of the funny stories we had of him. That blissful look in his eyes as he would knead on the baby blankets my mother used to make. The quiet moments I had petting him and hugging him.

Here are some videos I made of him years ago on my YouTube channel, just to give you an idea of what he was like in life (at least during his older years).

m.youtube.com/watch?v=vEEmGhj8…

m.youtube.com/watch?v=5CiIgSFT…
m.youtube.com/watch?v=ha_3dNML…
m.youtube.com/watch?v=TG9sVSR5…
m.youtube.com/watch?v=vAQk_Q8b…

I’ll always love Finklestein. And I’m going to miss him so much….

R.I.P. Finklestein
April 13, 2006 - June 18, 2023

Thank you for reading. I need some time to process this. In the meantime, I’m probably just going to cry some more….