Good-byes are hard...

I still watch for him to run to the door to meet me when I come in.

I miss him stretched across my legs in the bed, nailing me down, and grumping if I move One Bit.

I am lonely for the little guy who sat on the edge of the tub for 20 years, dipping his tail and drinking (bleh) bath water.

I can't eat without looking down to give him one little taste of whatever I have.

I am lonesome beyond all words for my little boy; Wookie died on Friday after a courageous battle with bone cancer. The last few weeks, I hand fed him every bite he ate. The last two days, he couldn't drink, so I held him like a baby and fed him from a dropper. He was in no pain; he wanted to be near me where ever I was -- to the point of sitting in the windows and watching me weed the flowerbeds. He would call until I came back in and held him for a bit. Then, he was satisfied. His final day, he stayed out on the porch, enjoying the outside smells, sights, and sounds. I held him as he died.

The Mister hand dug (no backhoe for this one, he said) the grave over near Kashi, his pal who died several years ago. I placed my little guy, wrapped in the blanket I knit for him and with his cursed brush (how he hated it!) in a hardy storage box covered with roses. We rolled a ginormous quartz stone over his grave, reminding me a bit of Emerson's stone. Many years from now, archeologists will know he was deeply loved.

For 20 years he has been with me and I am so sad and miss him so much. I catch myself looking at the place where his litter box has been for all this time -- checking the place where his food bowl has been most of his life. I am reminded of a quote from Aunt Jane of Kentucky, "Look at this quilt. How can it still be here, but the hand that made it not?" I know he was "just a cat", but to me, he was so much more. He was the tangible connection to the past. He was someone I could love without reservation, without guard. While he would feign his annoyance with the whole petting and kissing thing, he loved it and I know it.

A friend said to me that it was unkind that God allowed our pets to pass before us. It is true; it is unkind. But I keep hoping that when I get to the other side, God lets me have the animals I have buried. If not, would it be heaven? We were created to care for these creatures of God; surely He will allow us to continue. I hope so.

Good night, my little man.

An Indifferent Monarch: Mr. Wookie

My little man is very sick with bone cancer which started in his jaw and is spreading. I noticed he was drooling some in his sleep and thought a tooth was bothering him, so I took him to the vet for a check-up. We don't go often; he isn't sick, usually, and, since we started him on a special diet for bladder stones, he never goes.

The first visit it was decided to treat him for an infection in spite of the fact that he had no fever and no sign of infection in the mouth. Ten days later, the lump was worse. Since then, he had an x-ray which revealed the spreading cancer in his jaw.

He was given pain meds and sent home to wait to die, "probably within 21 days... during which time he will be in agony."

This was six weeks ago. He has not been in pain, that we can tell (no crying, trembling, balling up, or isolation); he still wants to eat (although that is getting harder as his jaw is now out of alignment and I am hand feeding him four times a day);  he still wants to sleep on me and to taste my food -- just in case it was better than his. In short, he is normal except for the whole jaw thing.

During these weeks, I have spent a lot of time thinking about how to know when to let him go. No one should love an animal as I do him. I hold him, kiss him, stroke him, talk with him, feed him from my plate, carry him, wash him, and generally act a fool over him. It might be his indifference to me that keeps me challenged in this one-sided relationship, but I just can't show him how much I love him. Stupid, isn't it? Yet, I do.

I know the day will come when he will no longer be able to drink or will be in pain and I will have to release him. Unlike the roosters, I don't want to see him go. Ever. Yet, I know he will. And, when that day comes, I will lock myself in the bathroom, cry until I am sick, and then bury him wrapped in the blanket I knit him. But,until then, I will enjoy every minute I can with this indifferent monarch.

That Was Creepy

Wookie, as you well know, is quite elderly and, I keep fearing, drawing close to the end of his life. Now, he has good days and bad days. On the good ones, he runs through the house like the hounds of hades are on his heels and on the bad ones, well, he does nothing but sleep. So, I have been trying to come to terms that we will not pass over to the other side together and that I will be without him one of these days.

Last night he snuggled down between me and the Mister in bed and fell asleep with his head on my hand. About two hours later, I needed to roll over, so I did and he just walked Right Over Me as if it were business as usual, curled up against my tummy and off to sleep we went again.

A few hours later, I was in that weird stage of sleeping-and-not-sleeping and reached down to pet him. Usually he trills, but he didn't. This woke me a bit more; I petted again. Nothing. I touched his side and he was cold.

"Holey cow, this cat has died in my bed," I thought as I jumped up and turned on the light. "Mister! Wookie is dead. Oh my gosh. He's dead!" I began to weep.

Then, Wookie looked up with a very sleepy face as if to say, "No, silly. I was sleeping quite well until Someone woke me..."

I kissed his face and he snuggled back down. I didn't. How can you sleep after that?

First Day Musings -- One Look Says It All

Our Monsieur Wookie

When my cats aren't happy, I'm not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they're just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.”  ~~~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

Now THIS is the life...

This is Wookie.

Do you see where he is?

See Wookie sleep.

See him start to melt from total ectasy.

See the pillow?

Wookie melts to the floor with stunning regularity.

This is the life.

Dear Victoria:

How wonderful you have found a new pet in Brenda! I think you are very beautiful. I know your pet will be as good to you as mine is to me. But, since you are new to her home, let me share a few tips I have learned over the years:

1. Be sure to ask for food often.
2. Smack your human in the face while she is sleeping if she doesn't get you the food the first time you ask.
3. Always sit on the side of the tub. It makes the human nervous.
4. Pretend you are angry with your human often. It makes them pet you more.
5. Walk on the table. You will get picked up and held which is, after all, what all kitties deserve. Never walk!
6. Refuse to move when your pet wants to get up from a chair, hold another human, read a book or go to the bathroom. See number five.
7. Throw up hairballs as company comes in the door. This makes the human look silly and as if they don't give you hairball medicine. Embarrassment results in more holding.
8. Pull all the human's clothing on the floor and sleep on them. It will encourage them to put them away more quickly.
9. Sneak food from the owner's countertops. It teaches them responsibility in putting things away more quickly. See number eight.
And....

10. Purr. When all else fails, regardless of how much you may have misbehaved, purring will trump angry every time.

Your Kindred Spirit,


Wookie