Farewell, Beloved Friend
Not everyone has been blessed with a large family, or even the ability to have children. Over the past twenty years, I have opened my home to several furry creatures who have become my babies, as precious to me as your children are to you.
Ruffles came to live with me first, shortly before my first husband and I split up. She was a sweet little thing, especially as a kitten; tiny as could be, she would curl up on my pillow as I slept, and I'd wake up in the morning with a stiff neck and my head resting at an odd angle. One night, I dreamt I was fighting a cougar. We wrestled, and I finally managed to bite its leg, making it yowl. Yes, I woke up with poor Ruffles' paw in my hand, and my teeth clamped onto her leg. Oops! Thank goodness I didn't bite down hard.
As she got older, she made it very obvious that she didn't like being trapped in my apartment. Thank goodness I rented the upstairs of my parents' two family home in Queens; Ruffles was allowed to roam from my apartment down to the basement. She wasn't allowed into my Mom and Dad's place, as Mom had a budgie, and Dad didn't want a cat in their living space. I also had a budgie, and made the mistake of thinking Ruffles would have learned to stay away from the cage (I was pretty free with the spray bottle, and she hated being wet). Well, I went to visit friends in another state, and the first night out Mom told me that Ruffles had knocked the cage down and the door had flown open. Yngwie, may he rest in peace, was too stunned at his sudden freedom to swiftly fly away. Mom rushed upstairs when she heard the cage fall, but Yngwie died in her hands not long after. Ruffles was a born hunter.
Her death was devastating to me; I lived alone in a studio apartment at the time and worked a lot of overtime. So I never realised that, even though she was in a different position or a slightly different place on the bed, she wasn't actually getting up and eating or drinking. Since I had a second cat, I couldn't tell that she hadn't been using the litter box.
The poor baby had suffered renal failure and was slowly going into shock, dying. The vet told me that cats are extremely adaptable and that it's often difficult to tell if they are sick or hurt (unless there is an obvious wound), but I blamed myself for being too damned busy with work and my community theatre stuff to notice that my precious baby was ill. Fare thee well, Ruffles, I still miss you.
Smokey was my second cat; she had been born to a stray in my mother's backyard. I took the entire litter (seven kittens!) out to the cottage I lived in way out on Long Island (yes, I've moved a lot) at the time, and they gradually all got homes (well, aside from the two that died), but I kept Smokey. She was with me for, oh, ten years. I called her Smokey Sweetface, as she had the sweetest expression. She was soft and loving, and when I went through periods of depression she would cuddle up and purr as though trying to comfort me. She was with me when I moved to Arizona, and she liked living out in the desert. I'd let her go outside and she would lie under the mesquite tree until I came home from work.
She came with us to Illinois, and she died here, a huge tumour attached to her back. There was nothing the vet could do, and Smokey was in a lot of pain. I stayed with her while she slipped away, and I carried her home and cried as though the world had ended.
While we lived in Arizona, Angel came to live with us. I hope there is a special circle of Hell reserved for people who abandon an animal, and I hope there are extra-nasty punishments for those who abandon an animal in the desert. She seemed pathetically grateful to have found a house to rest in the shade of. As I pulled up to the house upon my return from work, she stood up and trotted over to the car tentatively. I got out, because I'm stupid like that (they'll find me with my throat ripped out some day, I'm sure), and let her approach me. Anyone who says animals aren't expressive would have changed their mind at the hopeful look on her face, and I swear that, deep inside my heart, I heard, "Hi! I'm Angel, and I'll be your dog!" And she was. I believe I already used the words 'pathetically grateful', but that's how she acted for the rest of her life. She was a wonderful dog, part German Shepherd, part Belgian Malinois, and she and Smokey became tentative friends.
Angel was already old when she came to live with us, and she made the long drive to Illinois without complaint. She was just happy to be in the truck (she LOVED car rides!) and to be able to rest her head on Guy's leg or on mine. Before we left Arizona, Angel became very good friends with my sister-in-law's sweet dog, Sasha. They were cousins, buddies, and hilarious to watch.
Angel is buried next to Smokey. Sasha died recently, old lady that she was, and I just know that the two of them are checking out all the planets in the Universe, finding all the best places to play. And, of course, they've definitely peed on every planet they've been to!
We have five furry babies now, all different ages and stages of life. My main concern is Noey (Noel), who suffered renal failure last year and who seems to have recovered, at least partially. I watch him constantly, though, as if I will be able to tell when he is ready to leave his earthly body and roam. He is my panther, a big, once-muscular black cat who loved to climb trees. He no longer does, but he is still my panther, my heart. Tempest, Guy's cat, is a small girl who was born feral, to a feral mother who abandoned her before she was weaned. She only has had love for Guy until recently, when she FINALLY decided she loves me, too. She's about five or six years old, has huge eyes, and is the jumpiest, most nervous creature I've ever seen. Zephyr is a couple of weeks younger, but nearly twice Temp's size, and an absolute clown. I know she will be with us for many years still, and it is a comfort.
Our recent additions, Jasmine and Grover, were young and on the street, and adopted us. They are both about two years old, and quite healthy. This is a blessing to me; as I get older, losses get more difficult.
I've thought of all this recently, mainly because of Barb. Playing last week must have been such an effort for her, as she held her dying kitty. She finally left, in tears. My heart goes out to Barb because I understand how deeply some people love their creatures. We give them homes, and our hearts, knowing that we will have to eventually deal with their passing - but the thought of passing up the chance for their companionship is never even an option.
I know that, for myself, I just shrug at people who say animals don't have intelligence, don't have personalities, don't feel emotions, and don't have souls.
Some day there will be nothing left of me but a wisp of energy, a soul or spirit. And I'm going to be off investigating the Universe, you'd better believe it. You'll know which spirit is me... I'll be the one surrounded by furry littls souls that purr or bark, and they'll be showing me all the best places to hang out.
I have 2 dogs now. Wesley (named for my wife's second boyfriend Wesley Snipes) and Selma (named for my third girlfriend Salma Hayack...Miriam wouldn't let me name her after Lindsy Lohan). We haven't been able to have children but I can tell you they are as precious to us as kids would be. Wesley sleeps on his own set of pillows above our heads near the headboard and Selma sleeps where ever she can find open space on the bed. It is hard to imagine that in 13-15 years from now we could lose them both. It isn't something I can think about. They both have their own personalities. Selma is a big flirt, and Wesley is a brilliant athletic type. They know when Miriam and I don't feel well, or when we are upset at each other. They also know who is the one in the right if we have an argument as they will go and stand on that persons side in the room...It is hilarious as we often use that to point out who is right or wrong. The excitement they feel when I come home from work fills me with so much warmth and joy I can't fully describe it. We have been hunting for a house for 5 months now here in the Naples area. Half of the decision process is if we think it a suitable location for them, as if we are picking a school district or something. I may not believe they have souls but they do have spirits. Those spirits are precious and I believe as does Kaz that when the glorious day of my ascension occurs then I will be able to frolick with those that made me the happiest and loved me the most here on earth. I will probably be playing D&D with them at the gaming table in Heaven!!!
I can't and don't want to say goodbye or farewell to them now (or ever), but I will say thank you to them and God for bringing them into my life and giving me such wonderful memories and great times.
Fritz
Kaz... thanks so much for the memories
Like Fritz and Miriam, Steve and I could not have children (and not sure we would have wanted them if we could have had them!). Our dogs and cats have been our family for many many years. We got our first cat 2 weeks after we were married, 32 years ago. Misty was not an only child for long as Smokey can along a few months later and before our 1st anniversay, we also had Max, a collie mix dog. Guess that is what happens when a cat lover marries a dog lover. By the time that we were ready to leave Ohio and move to Ft Lauderdale in 1982, we had a second dog, Ginger. Three of these four are buried at Pet Heaven in Miami. Max died shortly before our move to Georgia in 1996 so he is here with us.
CJ came to live with us while we were in Ft Lauderdale. She was a tiny little thing, almost a year old. Her mother belonged to my brother. He could not find a home for this little kitten, so on one of my trips home to Ohio, I bought a pet carrier and flew her back to Florida with me. Talk about culture shock! This poor little thing who had never been outside was put in a carrier, driven 100 miles to the airport, put in an airplane beside this BIG dog, flown for 4-5 hours. Once we were home, she was introduced to the rest of the family...dogs Max and Bagle and cats Odin and Fritz. Poor thing hide under our bed for days!! But, she adjusted and became a playful member of the family. Brian used to pet sit for us and CJ absolutely loved him. He would walk into our house and she would come running from where ever she was and jump into his lap! He and my brother were the only men that she would do that to!
After Max died, we got a Lab named Lady. CJ and Lady were the best of friends. They would sleep together as well as play together. CJ seemed so lost and depressed when Lady died in 2001. She then became my cat...wanting on my lap every time I sat down, sleeping at my side at night. Always purring.
Over the past year, CJ started sleeping more and more, playing less. She was becoming an old lady. She really did not care to join in chasing the balls or rolling in catnip with the other cats (Rainey and Harley). She really could have cared less what the dogs Bo or Buddy were doing. Buddy, being the newest member of our family wanted her to play with him so much... he would try and try but all she wanted to do was sleep, so most of the time, Buddy would just lay down beside her and take a nap too.
You would think in a house as hectic as ours is (Bo is an 80+ lb lab mix who is EXTREMELY headstrong and barks almost non stop, then there is Buddy a young baby who is nothing but energy) that we would not miss a quiet cat all that much, but we do. Just knowing that she is not sleeping on the bed....
But, on the up side, she is now happy, healthly and playing again with Lady and the others at the Rainbow Bridge, just waiting on Steve and I to join them. One day, we will all be togethe again. But, in the mean time, there is another kitten out there just waiting to adopt us. I really believe that we do not adopt them, they adopt and train us... Christmas is just around the corner and what better gift than to give a kitten or cat a new home!
and Fritz, I do understand about buying a house for the animals... our guys do not care if the school system is good or bad... all they care about is the fact that we bought a house in the country with 2 acres fenced so they can run and play safely.
Thanks for allowing me to remember and ramble! Barb
Kaz again. I believe I stated in my first ramblings that I watch Noey (Noel) as though I will be able to tell when it is time for him to leave us. Well, that time has come.
Tomorrow, my dear friend Lani will be driving Noey and me to the vet. He has gone from about 12 pounds (or more) to approximately 4 pounds. He is ready, and I never will be. Guy is going to be home, finding the best resting place in the backyard. I think it is not that he can't bear to watch Noey slip away, but that he can't bear to watch me watching Noey slip away.
Noey came to live with us when we were in Arizona. He belonged originally to a girl who lived next door to us. When her mother and step-father split up, the mother and kids left and the girl left Noey behind, saying she would come back for him after they had settled in the new place. Well, apparently they never got settled, because she never came back for him. That November was especially wet and bitter, and he got quite a cold, which is when we took him in. I brought him to the vet, he got better, and he decided to stay with us.
I won't say the girl eventually tried to get him back, because she did try - almost a year later! And when she called to him, trying to get him to come to her, he turned his back on her and walked away. Guess he made his choice, eh?
He wasn't very happy during the drive to Illinois, and I don't blame him. Three days in a cat carrier, UGH! But he adapted well to the land of green grass and trees you can climb if you have good, strong claws (he did). He has been, I think and hope, very happy. Even the past two years, while he's been very ill, he still would occasionally scamper across the yard.
I'm going to miss him so much; I'm sure I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. Good-bye, my wonderful panther... you filled my heart with joy. (March 6,2009)
