This was one of those days.
We've written here about animal love. And here about The Black Kitty's passing last fall.
Today, we lost The Grey Kitty.
Selfishly, what I miss is her being on the planet with me.Forget about the grown-ups and grown kids. Forget about the 70 lb Rottweiller/Golden Retriever mix of a mess that is Gracie the Dog. Forget about big bruiser Black Kitty, may she now rest in peace. It was seven-pound Grey Kitty who was the alpha animal in the house.
She let you know who was boss. Of herself, and of you.
With a well-timed, "MeeeeeeEEEEOW!" for breakfast, dinner, or a rub when she felt like it. With a swift turn of her butt to you when she didn't . . . and then hours of disdainful ignoring your silly existence when she wanted to sleep under the bed alone. With a swipe of her paw toward the dog's nose when the dog got too enthusiastic about wanting to play. With a PLOP right into your lap while you needed to work at the computer, but she needed to be petted and purr at you. (Note: no other cat ever purred as loudly as The Grey Kitty. She sounded like a motor boat. You could hear her from across the room.)
Not having The Grey Kitty pacing back and forth through the house letting you know what you should be doing to make her life better . . . . that sucks. We're only about seven hours into this absence, and I already miss my boss.
Maybe it's because I'm a Leo, and I need another cat to help me out . . . and for the first time in almost 20 years, there's no other cat in the house. Maybe it's also because of the February timing: lost my mom 27 years ago, almost to the day . . . on an identical weird-assed February day clear and blue and and warm as a day in May. Whatever the reason, this loss feels harder to be philosophical about that lots of others. It's just sad. It's just pure and simple bereavement. Because she was a very awesomely wonderful cat. Even though she was -- or, maybe because she was -- quite a beeotch along the way. The Grey Kitty was 1,000% always, undoubtedly, her own bad-assed self.
All right. Time to pull it together and get philosophical. I am quite certain you'd want me to buck up, Grey Kitty, and be just as much of a bad-ass as you always were. And I'm very certain you are now the boss of very many other animals, with your lungs and bladder and kidneys intact and raring to go. Rock on, Grey Kitty!
And I'll be taking a page from your book -- doing my own version of sleeping under the bed. Taking a week off (under the bed) from blog posting, and from tweeting. Wise cats know when it's time to hide out, lick their wounds, and heal. Thank you for all the love and teaching, Grey Kitty. Be well.
6 comments:
beautiful, Tamara. Peace be with you - Grey Kitty would want it that way.
So sorry to hear. Our Lars (a grey Kitty himself) sends a loud purr and ankle rub your way. Grey Kitty, say hi to Dorian and Betty for us.
Your post arrived in my Facebook stream via one of our mutual friends and I couldn't not stop to say that I understand. You gave Grey Kitty a good life and she will always be a part of your heart. Take care.
So sorry for the loss of Grey Kitty and for all the complicated losses this day evoked. She sounds like she was the purrfect feline companion, and as gingermcc already said, she would want to you to be at peace with her passing.
Loved your post about Gray Kitty. I felt the same way when we lost our sweet Blue and Gwennie and my parent's big cat, Sammie - I really miss them all so much.
Thanks so much, all of you kind people. You always know the furry friends are gonna go be going onto the next phase at some point -- but then, it still crushes you when they do. Your wonderful comments and support really help. Thank you.
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