Sad News About Our Cat
It is with great sorrow that I share this news. Our beloved cat Larch, and feline Guest Master here at Empty Mountain, has passed away. In addition to this blog here, I also maintain and upkeep a personal practice blog, which I started in 2012. If you’re interested in reading the post I crafted about this sudden and unexpected loss, please click here to be directed to my personal blog.
Since you can click on the link above to read the post I poured my heart into about Larch, I will angle this post in a different direction, though still centered on our furry four-legged friend.
Larch’s Origin Story
For frame of reference, Mike & I moved onto the land here at Empty Mountain on July 1 of 2022. We bought the land sans services or structures and lived in our 1989 Chevy G20 van whilst building our 12 X 14 cabin, using wood Mike milled into lumber here on site. We headed south that winter, to our home away from home at Deer Park Monastery in southern California. We returned back to EM in mid-April of 2023. Soon after, in early May, we went for a walk up the canyon on the gravel road that bisects our 24-acre parcel.
When we go to the large and lovely meadow just up the road, I asked Mike if he was ready to turn around and head back. He said, “Let’s go a little further.” So we did. Whelp. Turns out, going a little further changed our life.
We were greeted by an orange cat on the road. Given our remote woodland location, it took a few minutes for the peculiar strangeness of running into a domestic cat to sink in. He wasn’t at all what we expected to come across on our walk in the woods. There was no one around. He did not belong to anyone. Stranger still, he was super friendly and looked to be in super good health. There was very little chance he just ended up there or ran away from home, and a zero chance he wintered over in the woods. He came right up to us, meowing all the way, as though he had been waiting for us to return.
It’s worth mentioning that we love cats. Both Mike and I grew up with cats. And as soon as we went from renting to purchasing the house we lived in for 18-years in Missoula, which we sold in September of 2022, one of the first things we did was take our son Jaden to the Humane Society so we could pick out a cat to call our own. And though our plan was to get one cat, the Humane Society offered to throw in another for free. So we wound up with two brother kittens from the same little. And both were orange.
Our previous two orange boys lived a long life with us in Missoula. They lived for around 16 and 18 years. Flashforward to our walk in the woods in May of 2023, when we were confronted with not only a cat but an orange one at that! A small part of us thought he may have been conjured by the magic of the forest.
Much more likely, however and of course, is that said orange cat in the woods was dropped off by some people who could not take care of him, nor afford to drive him all the way to Missoula to drop him off at a shelter. Their loss wound up being our great and wonderful gain.
It’s also worth mentioning, however, that despite our deep and enduring love for cats, we were specifically not in the market for a cat when our paths collided. Still dazed by the confusion of running into him in such a remote location, we tried to get him to stay put so we could walk home without him. A neighbor’s house was nearby, and even though it was a vacation place and they hadn’t been out for months, part of us was hoping the cat belonged to them. No chance. He followed us home and there was no talking him out of it.
We didn’t let Larch into the cabin that night. In the morning when I stepped outside, I was greeted by a dead mouse near the doorstep, so I figured he was still around. Sure enough there he was. And gosh, he was just the sweetest thing right off the bat. He also seemed right at home in the woods. We were on the fence about what to do with him for a few days or so. But looking back, I’m not sure there was ever any real question we’d keep him. As mentioned, we love cats. And given our previous two orange brother cats, we have an extra special affection now for orange boys.
Larch Continued
We named him Larch after one of the local trees here around Empty Mountain. And in case you’re not familiar, another name for the larch tree is tamarack, and both names are in equal use around these parts.
Larch was a great feline woodsman. He loved roaming around and surveying his kingdom. Larch was akin to a dog. He loved to follow us around on walkabouts. He would trail along behind us, no matter where we went, and when we’d turn around to saunter home, he simply turned around with us.
When Mike was away working for 3-months last summer, Larch and I grew even closer as friends. After dinner, I would often go on walks to gather kindling, or forage for oregon grape root and yarrow leaves to make tea, and Larch would always come with me. He’d sit beside me in the grass or nearby on a tree stump or log while I gathered what I was in search for. When spring peels back winter and I go out to forage, I will especially miss his company.
When Mike would be outside working, Larch enjoyed sitting nearby to him as well. He didn’t mind the noise and rumble of our sawmill or the chainsaw. He liked to be right in the thick of things.
He was a great lover of people of all ages when they would come to visit. For this reason, we gave him the honorific title as the Empty Mountain Guest Master. When friends would come and camp, we let them know that Larch might visit them in the night. And if they heard rustling around their tent not to worry, it would most likely be Larchy.
Larch’s Winter Homes
One of the biggest reasons we weren’t in the market for a cat when we found Larch in the woods is that since 2020, we’ve been flying south for the winter months to Deer Park Monastery (DP). We’ve been visiting DP every year since 2014, but prior to 2020 we went for much shorter stay periods. Bringing a cat with us to the monastery is a no fly zone.
Larch spent the winter of 2023-2024 with my stepson Jaden in his apartment in Portland, Oregon. And while Larch sometimes drove him crazy mad dashing around the house in what is sometimes referred to as the zoomies, they had a really good time together. Larch and Jaden bonded and were close buds.
This past/still current winter of 2024-2025, Larch spent 3-months with our good friends Sarah and Marko and their 3 other housemates in Missoula, along with another cat named Eddie. And while we were initially concerned about whether Eddie and Larch would get along, they too wound up become close buds.
The Loss of Larch is a Heartbreak to the Soul
It’s Sunday, March 2, as I write this. We made the freakin hard call to have him put down on Friday, February 28. So the loss is still very fresh.
We both keep expecting to see him in places that he frequently is and goes. When we open and close the cabin door, our natural instinct of seeing if he wants to come in or go out is still active and alive.
When I picked up his food and water bowls from where they live on the floor to empty and wash them, I got a small taste of why some people would choose to leave their loved one’s belongings untouched when they die. Part of me didn’t want to remove Larch’s things. And I cannot tell you what an additional heartbreak it was for me to leave his body behind with the vet. If the ground weren’t frozen right now, we would have buried Larch in the woods. But we chose instead to have him cremated. We’ll pick up his ashes in a week or so. Sometime this spring, we will either scatter or bury his ashes, along with the ashes of our other two brother cats.
Larch’s death was sudden and completely unexpected. His illness was advanced and progressed rapidly. Thank goodness we came home from DP when we did. Otherwise we might not have made it home in time when his health started fading. We might not have known his condition was as bad as it was. I shutter to think how much worse this would’ve been for my heart had he died without us here and home with him.
The shock of losing him so quickly still lingers. Things can change just so very quickly.
In Closing
When a loved one dies - whether person or pet - it can cast light on the things that matter most. And what keeps surfacing for me is this: Love is what matters most. I believe this deeply and sincerely and unwaveringly.
So my own call to action for myself is to keep loving. To keep opening my heart, when I am able. To love up on the people in my orbit, whether they are physically near or far away.
Time is precious and life is short. And while we are often tempted to think we have plenty of time to do X, Y, and Z, the truth is there may not be nearly as much time as we think.
May I continue to open, follow, trust and traverse the wilderness of my heart, in as many creative ways as I can muster, for the benefit of myself and all living beings.