RIP Maceo the Dogbear
My beloved companion—Maceo (MAY-see-oh) the Dogbear—passed at 2:pm on 2/22/2026. We spent ~6 amazing years together.
This page is a memorial to him. When I reach the acceptance stage of the profound grief I’m going through, I will tell you all about him. I am grateful for the numb / dissociative, “denial” state I’m in right now. I sense the dam of profound sadness; its breaking will need special tending…
In light of that, my posts for the coming weeks will be things I’ve already written, but new to you. Either from one of my two published books, or the satirical lexicon I’m currently working on. The consistent blog cadence will remain twice weekly, as always. Thank you for your understanding and devoted readership.
-M
This photo was taken on 2/4/26. I only found out he was dying on 2/18. He was extraordinarily stoic about his very serious conditions; I was blindsided by the news. Then a few days of hell—watching him refuse food and water entirely. I wanted him to die at home, but he ended up showing heartbreaking signs of distress. So I made the call on 2/22. He died peacefully in my arms at the vet. This cat helped me to save my own life. He was ~12 years old at his passing. That was his stroller in the background.
Mon petit coeur de lion!
From behind you’re like, “What is that?” DOGBEAR!
He often looked straight in the camera; it’s like he knew what being photographed was.
This is what he’d do when I walked into the room: reach his poh out toward me.
That’s his innocent face. “Who, me?”
So majestic and stoic. I had a little Marcus Aurelius living with me. Barely mewed. Loved being pettused by me. Used to sit in the middle of the floor and stare at me. Loved the little language and tone I made up for him. Loved his personal song I sang to him—from the first weeks of his adoption, to the final hours of his life. I made up a few verses to the tune of “Oh My Darlin.’” Oh my Dogbear, Oh my Dogbear…
This one was years ago. Before we moved out of that hovel in SF to a new place (in a new state) with kinder people (for the most part) and more space—energetically and otherwise. He used to watch me paint. Then if I’d get up, I’d find him on my painting stool, staring at my work. Such a strange and wonderful little fella.
These are from the end of my 2nd book, Ars Architektonic Anomalia.
Now he is immortalized by publishing and copyrighting. That is so comforting because he was the most special little fella imaginable.
So multi-faceted…
So honorable, courageous, and memorable…