The Endgame
Newsletter #127 - Absence
Toronto, February 22, 2026
Absence
Once, Misty the cat was independent and aloof. She slept most of the time alone in a cubbyhole, emerging only occasionally to show disdain for her human keepers. But Misty is old now and behaves differently. She doesn’t like to be left by herself. She follows us around, from room to room. If we’re out of an evening she comes to the door when we get home, crying in rebuke. Now, Misty the cat is needy. Sometimes she seems sad, and our hearts hurt.
When we go away on a trip, a friend comes in every day for a few hours to feed Misty and caress her. But Misty’s nights are lonely, or so we imagine. When she jumps on our bed and finds it empty, is she distressed and confused? Does she understand that we will return? Does she know that, although we are not there, we still love her? Or, is Misty like a newborn child who has not yet developed the idea of object permanence and does not understand that someone may exist even though they’re out of sight?
Perhaps our worry that Misty misses us when we are away is just human hubris. Perhaps Misty doesn’t give us a second thought. Perhaps, fed and caressed by our friend, she hardly notices that we’re gone. “I shall forget you presently, my dear,/ So make the most of this, your little day;/ Your little month, your little half a year,/ Ere I forget, or die, or move away…” (Edna St. Vincent Millay)
It’s anthropomorphic to attribute human acuity to an animal. In Departure(s), his new novel, Julian Barnes writes about a dog called Jimmy: “[M]y thoughts wandered to what it was like to be Jimmy. Specifically, to what memory must be like for a dog. Does it understand the concept of time in any way? Or is its mental life a series of repetitive presents with no hinterland?” Later, Barnes suggests Jimmy doesn’t even know he’s a dog. (The main character in Departure(s), written by Julian Barnes, is called Julian Barnes. Does Julian Barnes even know he’s Julian Barnes?)
I touched on all this three years ago in Endgame #45. The British press reported that a sheep had been marooned at the foot of a Scottish cliff for two years and described it as Britain’s loneliest sheep. I asked, “Can a sheep experience loneliness the way humans understand it?” In a famous 1974 article on the problem of consciousness, the American philosopher Thomas Nagel asked “What is it like to be a bat?” Nagel concluded that only a bat knows what it is like to be a bat. His analysis applies equally to a sheep. Only a sheep knows what it’s like to be a sheep. And only Misty knows what it is like to be Misty.
Cats may not love and miss humans, but what is certain is that humans can love and miss cats. In his beautiful poem “November,” Michael Ondaatje writes about the death of his cat Jack. “Oh Jack I miss your presence everywhere/ in the corners of rooms, in every chair,/ or nesting in a cardboard box/ Take me back where the past can again enter/ those early remembered rooms, our snowbound street,/ lift me upside down in your arms, I cannot stand it...”
Misty has a history with our family. My mother adopted her as a rescue cat. When my mother died twelve years ago, Cynnie and I took Misty in, and she has been a joy. She is old now. One day she will leave us. Towards the end of Ondaatje’s poem is a line that will make weep anyone who has lost an animal they loved: “You no longer wait for us.”
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Some comments on Endgame #126 (“Facile?”)
Naomi Duguid writes: “Loved this... because of course it sent me to listen to different recordings of the sonata. I can’t imagine my fingers being dextrous and light!”
From David Wolinsky: “After reading today’s Endgame I was inspired to buy a piano, and learn to play ‘Rhapsody In Blue.’ Then I remembered that I had taken piano lessons for two years starting at age six until my piano teacher told my parents that she couldn’t take their money any longer, that there was no hope. Thirty years later when I was acting for numerous famous musicians who were always being chased by beautiful women, I asked a client who owned a music studio to teach me to play the guitar, but after six months he also proclaimed there was no hope and he could no longer take my money. Ten years after that, when I decided to surprise my wife by secretly taking dance lessons, this time the teacher’s abnegation took less than three months. Hope may spring eternal, but complete absence of talent can be a bitch.”
Randy Hahn writes: Decades ago, I decided to teach myself guitar. I have never taken a lesson... I know some basic guitar chords and enjoy the surprising breadth of the possible repertoire given such limitation. Many years ago, my flatmate who was a quite capable guitar player was playing the lovely piece Cavatina, popularly known as part of the soundtrack for the movie, The Deer Hunter. “That sounds wonderful I said—maybe I could borrow the music so I could learn it?” He politely offered that it was much beyond my abilities. That was sufficient for me to take up the challenge. I methodically and repeatedly worked through each bar again and again and again, and after a very long time managed sufficient competency such that I could convince those who would listen to me that I am a capable guitar player.”
David Wolinsky again: “Last Sunday at the conclusion of his always brilliant Endgame column Philip Slayton attached a few comments on his previous column and referred to mine as ‘a charming note from David Wolinsky.’ I’ve been walking around with a smile on my face since then as I’m much more accustomed to hearing the adjective ‘chubby.’”
*****
Bulletin from the Department of Self-Promotion
(1) Tomorrow morning, Monday February 23, at 9:49 am Eastern Time, I’ll be on Citytv Breakfast Television (briefly), discussing my book All Remaining Passengers. Watch on Citytv across Canada, or stream live at: https://citytvplus.ca/
(2) The veteran film and television producer David Lint writes: “I rarely read fiction, preferring at this stage of my life mostly memoirs and biographies. But I recently decided to have a look at your Bay Street. So glad I did. You have a real narrative gift. Your portraits of the law firm characters are so well drawn. And the details of their professional and personal lives resonate.”
Bay Street: A Novel was published in 2013. Jack Batten described it in the Toronto Star as “…expert and engaging… exciting and hilarious… a first rate crime novel.” Jeff Gray wrote in The Globe and Mail: “A Bay Street law firm may be the perfect murder-mystery setting: A place rife with races for power and money, and more recently, a growing sense of unease about what the future holds.”
*****
Note to readers. Soon we will be on the road again. My next new column will be on Sunday, March 22. I hope Misty will be okay while we’re away.
Oh my goodness seeing the preview of Misty's picture and the word title "Absence" made my heart clench. I'm so glad she's still with you.
We, very ridiculously, have five cats. In our defence, two of them were taken in as palliative fosters and then they rallied under our care and will likely live another decade. (I tell them if they were cars, they'd be the opposite of a lemon.)
One of the ones we were told was "circling the drain" two years ago is very very attached to me, and we try to take her with us when we travel. She is going to a cottage next month to celebrate my 50th birthday with us.
That poem was a beautiful heartbreaker. The line "I cannot stand it" is very much how I still feel about the loss of our 21 year old calico Zoe.
Thank you so much for this post!!
You were right about that last line. Ugly cried and it’s only 7:00am. With regards to the rest, maybe we can’t know if a sheep is lonely, but we can assume that a social animal would feel vulnerable denied the advantages of being surrounded by its own kind. Social animals have evolved to do better in a herd and readily step back into the fold after an absence. And maybe the discomfort of being disconnected from a herd does actually fit the definition of loneliness.