My Darling little Russian Blue died today. She was 12 years old, and I got her at age 4 from the Guelph Humane Society. She was the ugliest cat there, and I think that is what attracted me to her. She had a reason though, as we soon found out- 2 bad teeth that the University of Guelph Vet School took out for her. Over the years, she traveled from here to B.C. and back several times, as I moved. I have this wonderful picture of her standing in a flower pot in which I was growing cat grass- a favourite of hers. She started to suffer health problems last year, and they only got worse. We had her tested to see if she could tolerate anesthetic to clean her teeth, and discovered her platelets were so low, the vet would have killed her, so that was off. The times I've sat with her and put food in front of her, she'd nibble, then move, so I'd move the food in front of her new spot... This week she really wasn't herself, wetting on carpet and I knew it was time to see the vet again. Her heart was bad, her thyroid overactive and on and on, and her teeth were really sore. They say love knows when to stop putting their little friends through a miserable existence, and at age 12, I knew it was time. She slipped into blissful rest in my arms and with the great support of our vet and her assistant. We wrapped Pookie in one of my Mom's towels, just like you would a baby, and I carried my darling to my car, and phoned my son to see if we could bury her at what had been my home. I was so determined she be buried amongst flowers and loved ones I even thought of burying her on my parents grave, thinking no one but us would know. She had been such a comfort to Mom in her trials with cancer. My son has such a heart for animals that he said for me to come, and by the time I got there-hoping my ex wouldn't be there, that my son had a lovely grave dug, and this is April and very ugly freezing weather. I carried my baby to her grave, and swaddled in Mom's towel, we looked at that lovely face and kissed her, cried and stroked her, before laying her in the curled up kitty position, in the soft earth. I placed my little cat on her grave, and then ran back to my car for a dream catcher I'd made while in the shelter for abused women
Sweet dreams Pookie, I'll never forget you. Mr.Bigglesworth will need extra loving now you are gone.
Thank you Humane Society for the gift of my kitty, and especially tonight for the gift of this memorial site to pour out my loss.