Our last cat finally passed away today. Lucky was 19 years when she died. We called her Lucky because, well, she was. We were going to the pet store to buy some food for our dog. Well, as luck would have it, as we walked into the store we noticed a sign stating there was a cat adoption going on today. So we took a peek. “I’m just going to look dear,” I said to my wife. Unfortunately for her, there was a litter of calicos. I’ve loved calicos ever since college. A girl that I roomed with had one and it was simply the sweetest cat. So looking turned to pleading, which ended up in picking out a new cat. I picked Lucky because she had a great pattern along with the blackest black fur and the whitest white fur. I mean truly vivid colors. We packed her up, bought some cat food and toys and off we went.
We introduced her to the rest of our menagerie; Pip, our beloved Old English Sheepdog and Smokey our amazing cat. She got on well with the two and comfortably settled into living in a house rather than a barn. A few years later I was perusing the rescue animals and spotted another cat. A green-eyed spotted beauty. Well, after much conniving, I mean convincing, we went to pick up Misty from the East Haven pound. She was a fantastic cat with an amazing personality. But, she did not get along with Lucky. She fought with her, bullied her and generally made life miserable for Lucky. So Lucky ended up withdrawing from the menagerie and moved into our bedroom, underneath the bed. And that is where she would while away the day. No amount of persuasion would get her out. Ok, no problem. Then after a few years she suddenly decamped from our bedroom and relocated to the basement. Since we kept the litter boxes, food and the water dispenser there, she was pretty much in cat heaven. Yeah, I would find her by the sunny window in the morning, but then she would scurry down to the basement.
Even after Smokey and Misty passed, she stayed there. Then one day, a few months ago, lo and behold, Lucky moved back upstairs. She literally removed herself from her self imposed exile. My wife moved her bed to the top of the basement steps and positioned the baby gate so she could come and go without the dogs getting at her food. She started hanging with Daisy and Beau, our two Shiloh Shepherds. They would lie together, play together, nap together. She even tolerated when they groomed, pawed and licked her. She would jump onto the couch and sit with us. Everything a normal cat would do. Every morning I would find her by the window sitting in the sun. She became Lucky again.
But she started to lose weight and slowly began to lose control of her limbs. They would drag and she had a hard time sitting. She also stopped grooming herself. But, she still had an appetite and ate like a horse and was always drinking water. Still, a good sign. Yesterday, when my wife and I came home after running errand all three of my brood greeted us at the door. It was so moving. Last night we had her on the couch petting her and rubbing her ears. She was happy sitting between us but seemed unable to climb onto my wife’s lap. This morning I went downstairs to make coffee and she was no where to be seen. I looked downstairs into the basement and she was lying there breathing hard. We took her upstairs, put her in her bed and called the vet. Twenty minutes later, she took her last breath and was gone.
So today has been kind of blue. The house feels emptier. It is a little out of balance. The dogs seem sad and downhearted. They have been sniffing around the house looking for her. We gave her a warm, safe, secure and loving house and I’m grateful for the time she had with us.
