I won’t share a poem today, but instead I’d like to invite you to join me in my musings over a very recent loss.
Our favourite and only Tuxedo cat died last week. Along with the sorrows and tears, I wish to celebrate all that we shared and her imprint on us all.
I only recently posted Tuxedo, Ode to a Treasured Pet, having, at the time, no idea she would be gone so soon after.
Such a gorgeous kitten…!
At the very beginning, we rescued a 9 weeks old tiny bundle who was very ill with flu and a diet of roadkill. I found a persistent vet and tried different treatments, hoping she might find her way through. She did, she survived and whilst timid, went on to thrive a long life within which she bestowed upon all who met her her gentle and loving soul.
She became my most dedicated shadow, tripping me up until I learnt to dance with her. She was my faithful accomplice, tapping my arm with her elongated paw to signal breaktime from typing. She chirruped whenever we walked past her favourite armchair; we would all oblige and chirrup back. If we initiated the chirrup, she would invariably respond. Its original survival function (avoiding one of us sitting down on her inadvertently in the penumbra of the lounge) soon morphed into a tender ritual we now miss so much.
For years, I tried to keep her alive away from traffic or keep her safe from other thuggish cats encroaching her territory. My acute (read “neurotic”) sense of danger means that I have cherished every moment with her for so long, not taking much for granted. It still hasn’t protected me from the jagged, heaving hurt I feel. It does however mean that I was tuned in to any changes and adjusted to her as she did to us all.
Over the last year, her sense of time deteriorated. She could no longer wait until 6.00 am for her breakfast, and started to wake me twice nightly. I loved her purring loud in my ear as she would lick my face conscientiously until I woke. On dawns I struggled to wake up, incorporating her tenderness into my dreams instead of fulfilling my purpose as her chosen nurturer, she would eventually attack my shelves and anything on them that could generate sufficient noise to drag me from my slumber. She would then herd me downstairs for some attention and a few kibbles. After several maneuvers inspired by the vet didn’t bring any change to her behaviour, I continued to wake on demand, strangely looking forward to these nightly fervent glimpses of affection, as I thought at her rather old age, this might be a sign that time was running out.
And yet, despite all my attempts to be philosophical, to prepare myself and making each moment and exchange count and fill up my internal (enormous) memory box, this hurts so much.
My tuxedo suddenly failed to turn up for our early dawn cuddles; I spent the following 5 nights sleeping in the lounge with her, watching a slow deterioration I was unable to derail. Daily vet visits, oxygen and tests, waiting and hoping despite what we could all see unfolding. The rapid weight loss and weakness felt like a nightmarish transformation that nothing could thwart. She was stoic, but she was gradually disappearing inside her tiny body. I couldn’t bear to witness her suffering, and the prospect of a long, complex process to try and diagnose her ailment forced the kindest choice, the only choice left.
The longest hugs preceded saying good night one last time.
She was our dog-cat, I still feel her nestled against me. She is forever imprinted on me and every corner of our lives. My days peppered with routines and rituals around her. It’s incredible the love so many of us felt for her.
So grateful she chose us, and changed us all for the better.
If you feel like sharing your own dance and grief from having loved a pet, please leave a comment, thank you.
Thank you so much, Terry, both for reading and commenting.
Yes, we did indeed 💚
Mya, this was so sad and yet so beautiful. I’m sorry for your loss, but I think you wrote a lovely piece to honour your gorgeous cat.