In memory of Cerulean ‘Rooley’ Stavros / João

It is with a very heavy heart that I share with you that Rooley passed away Tuesday, Sept. 1, 2026, in Austin, Texas,  at the age of 17.5. 

Rooley never did anything by half: he played hard, he ate hard, he slept hard and he was never, ever shy when it came to complaining about the service around here. His favourite toys to play with included hair ties, bottle caps, his scratch post and Oscar. His serious demeanor and wide-eyed accusatory stares were often hilarious – I posted a picture of him on Twitter and someone said he looked like he was about to do their taxes. He was noticeably calmer when the apartment was clean and tidy, opting to spread out majestically in the middle of the floor surveying his domain with a Great Sphynx-like grandeur. He whined loudly for his can of Fancy Feast, as though I would ever open one in front of him and not immediately dish it out. He slept on my head to the point where I thought I had sleep apnea – it turned out he was sticking a paw under my nose to test if I was breathing every 20 minutes.

Born in the San Francisco Bay Area, Rooley came into my life in June 2009 when my Sacramento apartment building manager called my name from the courtyard, waving around a tiny black and white kitten and asking if I wanted him. He belonged to a litter from another resident’s mother’s cat; she had adopted him but he didn’t get along with her dog. The manager intervened before she made the drive back to return him. I went downstairs to meet him; they pointed out his nose triangle and the little white patch on his back. I took him upstairs and set him down — he sniffed the room a bit, jumped up on the couch, stretched out and fell asleep. He was home.

From that day, it was me and him versus the world. He was loyally by my side during several periods of career upheaval which saw us ping-ponging across the country from California to North Carolina to Texas. In 2012, I adopted Oscar to give him some feline companionship; it was less than a week before they were locked in a cycle of wrestling with each other and sleeping together in a clump. When everything else in my life fell into chaos and isolation, Rooley was a constant presence at my side, demanding my attention and (typically) whatever I was eating at the time. The quarantine, as awful as it was for myriad reasons, gave me years of quality time working with Rooley draped across my arms and Oscar sitting shotgun on a dining chair next to my desk.

In 2023, I faced the prospect of moving to Australia to begin a life together with my long-distance boyfriend, Marc. Australia is famous for their strict biosecurity laws protecting the balance of their delicate (and rabies-free) ecosystem. I looked into what it would take to bring Rooley with me — medical clearance, passage as cargo in a commercial plane and at least a 2-week quarantine in the port of entry before I could fly him into Adelaide. All to the tune of about $12,000. Even if I could raise the money to make it happen, he was 14 years old and had a track record of panic-hyperventilating on the 15-minute car ride to the vet. I genuinely believed the stress of the trip would prove fatal for him.

I placed him in the hands of my best friend, Randy, who had taken him in for a few weeks during one of my overseas trips, despite the vocal protests of his cat, Penguin. The boys never reached the same level of companionship as Rooley and Oscar, but they coexisted well enough. Renamed João, he became Randy’s movie-watching buddy, settling in on the couch and relaxing into his golden years.

He is preceded in death by his roommate/brother/boyfriend, Oscar Madison, who died of a heart condition in 2022. He is survived by his caretaker, Randy Schaar; his roommate, The Penguin; and three stepsiblings: Pollux, Hailey and Cassini.

I won’t lie, I’m wracked with guilt over his passing. Adopting a pet is a commitment for life, and that’s a promise to Rooley that I wasn’t able to keep. There were times I almost had to give up both cats for the sake of my career, and each time I purposely made the choice to keep my family intact. Marc and I met in 2017, and it wasn’t even supposed to be a romance, let alone a partnership that would pull one of us halfway across the globe. Meeting him and moving to Adelaide has been one of the wildest, most wonderful things that’s ever happened to me in ways that I’m still struggling to fully articulate. But parting with Rooley was the highest cost I had to pay for the life I have now, and there’s nothing that can absolve me of the pit I feel in my stomach. 

What’s important to me is to look at things from Rooley’s perspective: he lived a very long life, pampered and spoiled and comfortable well into his late teens, loved and cared for through and through, even if it couldn’t be by me from cradle to grave. 

At the same time, this left Randy holding a very heavy bag in having to handle his end-of-life process. I miss Randy tremendously; he was described to me by our mutual friend Pete as the type of person who would give you the shirt off his back and apologize that it wasn’t washed. Placing Rooley with him was a big ask. There aren’t adequate enough words to express how grateful I am to Randy for loving Rooley in his old age and giving the gentle ending he deserved.

Hug your pets tight tonight. Support your local shelter with donations and adoptions. Treat others with grace and kindness because you never know what they’re going through.

I’ll love you forever, baby boy.