May 26, 2006
Oh, for pity’s sake, what a week it has been. It’s the cat, I’m telling you.
I’ve been spending a lot of time in our garage and driveway, sitting and watching our cat be sick. I haven’t written here about Kitty Wells, our raven-haired cat of twelve years, but today I have to write because it’s Elegy Day for this beloved pet.
Kitty has consumed my thoughts during this most challenging of weeks known as The End of School. The week when you drive your kids and your kids’ classmates to end-of-the-year class parties which last an average of 42 hours. The week when you realize that in about four days, you will be responsible for your children 24 hours a day instead of 17. The week before your younger son’s birthday, and you haven’t even had Thought One about organizing a birthday party of any sort, never mind a cool birthday party. The week before you’re leaving for the Grand Freaking Canyon.
Through all this, I worried about Kitty. I won’t go into the details, but basically, her seizures returned last weekend with a vengeance after six blissful months of remission from whatever horrible thing was making her brain act weird.
I just returned from taking Kitty to the vet to be put to sleep. I am a mess.
The picture above shows Kitty in a classic Kitty moment: loping through the grass at the edge of whatever was going on. Lurker.
Like her hard-bit country singer namesake, Kitty was a survivor. Her sister, a completely different-looking cat named Patsy Cline, died more than five years ago. Since then, Kitty always hovered close to the house, always ready to mooch a dish of milk or a bite of chicken. She wouldn’t hunt a mouse if the mouse sat down between her paws.
She loved a nap, she loved to sit on whatever I was knitting, while I was knitting it, and she loved to catch the breeze on my windowsill while I sat at my desk. Aw hell, she was a world-class cat.