Kitty Died Last Night
Kitty died last night. Kitty joined my family in the late 80’s, when my best friend Lesley’s boyfriend Peter got busted for having a kitten in the Emory dorm. She was a strange one for sure. Real annoying lots of the time, brutally affectionate, hostile, cranky, but my mom and I always loved her so much. We knew she’s probably been harrassed by all the stupid college freshmen, and so we forgave her licking our head in the night while we tried to sleep. We forgave the foul moods. In her own way, she was a sweetie. Her health had recently deteriorated, and she was in a lot of pain. Mom said that Winnie has kept vigil the last few days. It’s really sad. She will certainly be missed.
Regards to my kitties today. I think they must have known I had a kitty loss, because they were both being very sweet, especially Maggie. I actually got some good purry lap time.
I’m not sure what I think of the gravestone my Dad has made, but I have to agree with the idea that Kitty was most certainly not a Christian. In fact, she stayed "Kitty" because the only other name that was hanging on was "Satan." My parents figured her for a Wiccan, so she got a pentacle, not a cross like sweet Henry. Personally, I voted for the Ankh with kitty ears on the top. Link to Dad’s post and a picture of the very odd grave marker.
Rest in peace, Kitty.
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Addendum: I want to include what my mom wrote about Kitty. It’s from the comments section on my Dad’s blog. Mom’s more of a comments section writer, less of a headline act, but this time, I want to use her words, because she was closest to Kitty:
Thanks to everyone for your condolences. Kitty was a strange cat – so much so that we could never agree on an appropriate name for her, and finally resorted to naming her what we had been calling her for a year. She was very passionate about everything. She loved passionately, purred loudly, attacked visciously. The veterinarians who treated her both had warnings on her chart. In Atlanta, there was a big red circle that said, “Will bite.” Here in Jasper, there was a note that said, “Do not treat without anesthetizing first.” I refused to have her anesthetized, feeling that would kill her in and of itself. But she also would snuggle up with me and try desperately to nurse on my thumb or my arm while purring with ferocity. She would walk on my head at night and lick my forehead, waking me. Whatever she did, she did it big. But in dying, she went softly. She was weak and allowed me to minister to her without complaint. When we found her body this morning, she had crawled under the bed to die alone, as cats do. She looked very peaceful, as if she were just taking a nap. She was never the elegant cat that Winnie is, but she died with great dignity. I only hope I can do it as well when my time comes.
Comment by Aaron H
October 10, 2005 @ 6:52 pm
I know how much you are missing her.
I still have the text message on my phone that you sent when you were staying there last Christmas. “I am not a salt lick.”
Kitty clearly had no way to discern such things. It turns out she was just a wonderful example of the paradox of emotional honesty. Sure, her tongue-tastic behavior began at annoying and went up from there, but it was completely endearing. I feel lucky I had the opportunity to witness it first hand.
Pet pet pet