Rough Month · 2:55am May 31st, 2018
Hey all,
Normally, I'd start something like this by saying "cheers,"but in all honesty, I'm really not up to it at the moment.
This month has been rough. Really rough.
In the last 30 days, we lost a friend of the family to cancer, two beloved pets (Starbuck and Rainbow Dash...yes, named after Kara Thrace and the pony due to coloration), and I'm currently cradling my kitty of 15 years (It's her birthday tomorrow) as she seems to be slipping away.
I'm not really one for tears or all that sappy stuff, never really have been, but there is a definite sense of loss and frustration in being completely unable to simply 'fix' what's wrong.
My kitty, a little lady the color of toasted crème brûlée, was the runt of her litter. She started out only large enough to fit into a teacup while all her siblings were the size of softballs. She was so small, there was concern that she might not be fully developed. She couldn't cry and it took her almost two years before she could meow. The best she could do was click, which she used to do as she climbed up and rode around on my shoulder like some little parrot. Add to that that a case of kitty herpes would occasionally cause one of her eyes to swell shut, and the little girl was a proper pirate. Her coat has always confused and surprised the vets and everyone who has met her: it's soft and fine as silk, but grows in as little tufts that resemble paintbrushes. Vets have offered to buy her from us (my ex and I) on no less than 3 occasions, specifically because of her unusual coat.
She is the sweetest thing... having since her first days simply strolled over to just about anyone and curled up in their laps. We used to call her, jokingly, the lap cancer since she'd show up and no one would have to heart to get her to leave.
She once climbed up the inside of a friend's pant leg while he was on a giant love sac (think of a 6-8 foot bean bag chair) just so she could curl up. Oh... he was extremely allergic to her, but chose to ask for lots of benedryl rather than kicking her off.
About 2 years ago, we found she was suffering from renal failure. About a year ago, they found a mass in her chest. About 6 months ago she began obsessively over grooming, often tearing up her skin in the process, and has had a cone collar on much of the time since then as we weened her off her overkill grooming. Last night, she skipped dinner, choosing instead to groom herself. This morning at 7 am, she seemed fine but skipped breakfast again.
At around noon, we found her mostly unresponsive. We've been holding her and caring for her all day.
I suppose what I'm trying to say, folks, is that these little guys are precious and fragile. They are such a large part of our lives that most of us don't even realize how much we come to love them.
If you have a little fuzzy friend, I implore you to go and collect them, hold them for a moment and let them know you love them, even if they may never understand exactly what you're doing. It's important for them, and for you, in ways you can only truly understand when you look back on the time you've shared with them.
These little guys and girls, little divas and mischief makers alike, love in a way that no human can — and, I believe, we find a new way to love as we care for and cherish them too.
Goodnight, all.
Had our cat for 22 years. Lost her a few months back.
She was an indoor/outdoor type, spent roughly equal time in each.
Little grey thing; beautiful coat. Patiently impatient, in that way certain old ladies are when they get up there in age.
She disappeared for two days; nothing too unusual. A bit concerning, though.
Mom found her in the backyard.
Her front claws had gotten caught in the fabric of a cushioned lawnchair. She could neither pull herself up or get loose.
She died alone and terrified. Dad said her heart probably gave out from the stress.
She’d been with us since I was 6. The one constant animal in our lives, and she died 20 feet from our back door, and nobody knew it.
I buried her.
Hold that kitty close, Stormy. Let her know she isn’t alone as she goes.
Ask her to tell Prissy I’m sorry and I love her, and we all miss her.