Our cat died last Friday, and we are still grieving. Even with all the human loss in the world of late, this hit home. I am posting this here because of the diaries about pets that appear here.
“Kitty” (well, her name was actually “Timmy”, because at the time, our then 16 year old son thought it was a boy kitten and he named it) was only 12, but came down with some sort of condition over last week (breathing was labored, and she just laid around and didn’t eat much) and before we could get her to a vet appointment Friday afternoon, she died, in the morning when we were at work. Might have been heart failure or even Covid-19.
I think we dawdled taking her in (I could have rearranged my schedule) because at some level we felt that she was actually pretty sick, and didn’t want to go all in for expensive care, because of the moral dilemma of doing that when kids die around the world for want of clean water or a decent meal each day. The vet said she probably had developed a heart condition. But we might have been able to prolong her life. We are sorry we didn’t try, now.
She was very personable, cute, and part of the family. She had a routine: she demanded lap time morning and evening, would prefer we spent most of the day in bed, and enjoyed our yard overgrown with flowers and shrubs, where she got the occasional mouse or a Junco. She was also independent, and didn’t seem to mind us going away for a few days, leaving a window open so she could jump in the house to get to her food and escape the raccoons and mean cats in the neighborhood. The Jays also chased her around and scolded her.
On the small side and “raccoon” patterned with long fur, we even forgave her the almost daily puking in summer from all the hairballs.
We buried her in the yard under a favorite clump of perennials near the front door, where she would lurk and run out to announce she wanted in when we came home. We learned her language, and she had quite a few different sounds that we were taught to understand. She made me wonder if the primates have such a lock on higher consciousness as we think. She had been a gift to my then 16 year old son by his girlfriend at the time; too young at about 5 weeks, she spent a lot of the first few weeks in my shirt, and was mainly bonded to me. Lately it was just us three, with my son grown and living in Portland.
Luckily, I took a bunch of photos over the years; I just went through my computer and compiled them. She will be missed always. Sniffling. Silly odf me, huh?Thanks for the support from all of you pet owners out there.
