I know I haven't been very active on the list lately, but some ongoing health problems and a major bout of depression have made just keeping up with my business a hard thing. But today I said goodbye to my oldest kitty as her health problems had become too hard for her to overcome, so we made the trip to the vet's office for the last time. She would have been 15 in July sometime - we never knew her real birthdate.
I rescued Polly as a six week old kitten with a desperate case of diarrhea from an intestinal infestation of coccidia. She weighed about 6-7 ounces and I could hold her in the palm of one hand. The vet said she couldn't be saved but I wouldn't listen because I had seen how hard she was fighting for life. She survived and grew to be a big, long-haired gray tabby girl of 12 pounds with huge front paws - polydactl in fact, with an extra toe on each front foot. She had a huge purr-rrr-rrr too that could be heard across the room.
I remember two things about her so clearly I'm sure they just happened yesterday rather than years and years ago. The first happened when she was fighting for her life back in September of 1989. I had her set up in a basket in the kitchen with a heating pad set on low to keep her warm as she had trouble maintaining her body temp. I'd been feeding her with a syringe and giving her medicine every few hours trying to break the dehydration cycle. I had just finished with a feeding, settled her into her basket and gone back into our living room to read a book about Celtic cultures in the British Isles. I heard a small "mew" and looked up to see Polly gamely making her way across the floor. She sat down to rest every few steps, then came on a little further. She made it to the corner of the couch, looked up at me and launched herself up the upholstery and onto my lap, then proceeded to climb up my chest and head bumped me in the nose - all the time purring like a well oiled engine. I knew then I had a warrior on my hands and decided she needed a secret Gaelic name. I found one in the book, whispered it into her ear and willed myself to forget it so it would never be spoken aloud and stolen by listening evil spirits who could then do her harm. I have forgotten it and she proudly lived up to that secret warrior name all her life.
The second thing happened the next summer when she was about a year old. We lived then on a lovely country property that had its own river access - a gravel bed on an inside curve of the Mohawk River. I'd go down to fish occasionally as we had trout in there that were particularly tasty. One evening I set out for the river with my usual procession of kitties following along. Most of them never came down right to the water, but Polly liked to listen to the gurgles and burbles from a 'safe' distance. I soon caught my first little trout and realized I hadn't brought my stringer with me so I improvised a holding pool in the gravel to keep the fish cool until I was ready to go back to the house. Leaving the fish in the shallow water of a scooped out depression in the gravel, I cast out again and settled in to wait for another bite. A few moments later I heard some gravel moving and looked over to see Polly pulling my fish backwards out of the pool. She had taken hold of its tail and was backing up as fast as she could, determined to get that fish all to herself! I laughed so hard I startled her and she dropped the fish and sat there looking at me with an expression of "What?? Isn't this for ME??" I gave her a few bites after I fried up the catch for breakfast the next day. Her favorite food all her life was anything with fish in it.
She ate a little bit this morning, but the weight had melted off her in the past few weeks until she weighed less than five pounds. Her thyroid medicine obviously wasn't working anymore and her failing kidneys were shutting down. Her sister, Fluffy, died of kidney failure three years ago, so I knew it was time. She didn't cry in the truck today - just rubbed my fingers and purred each time I touched her through the carrier door as I drove. Thank goodness the trip isn't a long one. She purred, rubbed my hand and head-butted my face just before the first shot of sedative relaxed her and then the vet gave her release from her pain. She helped me do this today just like the true warrior she was. I'll miss her "Silly Cat" face, her rumbling purrs and her big, big feet. She's buried in the back yard now, under the plum tree where she liked to sit of a summer morning. In her shroud I included a piece of paper with this Gaelic blessing:
Deep peace of the running wave To you.
Deep peace of the flowing air To you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth To you.
Deep peace of the shining stars To you.
Deep peace of the infinite peace To you.
Goodbye, Polly. I love you! Wait for me at the Rainbow Bridge!
Mj