The title is accurate. This blog post is for me and me alone. I’d skip reading this if you don’t like being depressed, cats, bearded women at the circus, crying, and/or you have the steel-plated heart of Scrooge. Okay then… that qualifies me to stop reading. I need to do this so I can get past my mourning sadness weekend and move on… quit eating my sadness away like I am auditioning for the circus as the fat bearded woman. One weekend is enough for that kind of audition… understand now? Call this my own form of free therapy, if you will.
Friday afternoon my beloved little kitty of 22 years, since I was a wee gal of 11 years old, died. It hit me hard… mostly because I was dreading it, she’s been a part of my life for 2/3 of it, and also because I watched her die. I discovered her little body lying in the dirt at the base of the deck stairs, like she couldn’t muster the strength to get up them, so just lay down. She was still breathing at that time, shallow breaths… but her eyes were far away and vacant. I picked her up, knowing I could not let her die with her nose shoved into a pile of mud, and I brought her in the house and set her on her favorite little blanket and then I pet her and I told her what a good little kitty she had been and that I loved her… because I did. I also bawled… racking sobs, trying to let go of 22 years of companionship in the space of a few hours. I now know that I don’t handle tragical events well… especially involving someone/something I am close to… unless you consider pacing like a lunatic as handling something well.
I called my mom to come and help me and she came home and took over… and surprisingly, despite the fact that she is NOT an animal person, comforted the poor thing, talked to it, called the vet, and even shed a few tears over her as well. Just half an hour later, she was gone… it was like she was waiting for us before she finally let go.
I wish I hadn’t watched her die. I have this image in my head of her twitching, lifeless body, gasping for breath, and slowly fading away as she lay in the middle of the living room floor on a pile of puppy pads and a blanket… and I know that is not how I want to remember her. I want to remember her as the sweet little, loyal cat that she was for 22 years. Following me around everywhere… even on walks… meowing every so often so I knew she was there… Sitting on my feet while I watched TV or worked.
I want to remember her as the psycholy obedient thing she was. When you’d tell her she was not to come into a room, she would sit her little butt outside the door and wait patiently. And we never had a litter box in the house… EVER. When she needed to go, she would let us know and then we’d let her out. She never had an accident, until the last few days of her life… and even then she was courteous enough to go into the bathroom on the bathroom floor.
I want to remember her as the loving little thing that she was. She’d wait outside the door of the bathroom when I’d go in there and no matter how long I was in there, she’d be there waiting patiently when I came out again. She loved people and everyone was her friend… except for little kids in her older years. She could pass on those. Sunday dinner when Makayla and Corbin would come over, she’d know before they had even come and would hide herself away until they left.
She was smart… she knew how to let herself in through the screen door. Using her paw to pull it open and then slithering her skinny body into the house…. and I swear she knew English. We had many conversations, me and this little cat of mine. I’d ask a question and she’d meow her answer… and even though I didn’t speak a lick of kitty cat, we understood each other.
She loved to snuggle, have her ears scratched, and she purred up until the end. I’m thankful for the 22 years I had with my little runty kitty cat. She gave me much more than I ever gave her and I hope that she thought that her life under my constant germ-a-phobe nagging was worth it. I wondered yesterday as I dug her a little grave out by the garden… I have the blisters to prove it. Were the last 22 years worth it despite all the heartache now? My answer… HELL YES! Love you, Kitty… may you rest in peace, frolicking up in the heavens with all the other beloved pets.
I took this video earlier this year… it’s boring… probably only Lindsay will want to watch it, but whenever I watch it, it helps me to get that awful dying image out of my head… I hope that image fades as the days go by. Rest in peace my sweet little pumpkin…
NOTE: I may be scarce with the blog posting in the next few days… we’ll see how much inspiration I get.