25 September 2020, at 14:30 on a sunny but cool afternoon, my beloved little girl cat, Xena, passed away to join her mother and siblings in the great unknown.

As I probably wrote in the past, Xena had been ill for a long time. First, a thyroid condition, but next came kidney disease, then heart pressure, then feline dementia. She was on a lot of medications which she took in her food without any fuss. She had her share of infections over the past year and suffered through it but got better. I spent every single moment that I wasn’t at work with her. She stopped using the litter box this year so I had to put down newspaper and pads on the floor. Thank heavens for linoleum. Then she started to wander around the room. She just went in circles, over and over. Sometimes she bumped into things, but often she just wandered. I had her checked out; they thought she might have been going blind. But she still reacted for me. I was loathe to go anywhere because I wanted to spend time with her. Every time I was in the office room, where I’d made her home, I had her up in my arms. First, she’d rest on my shoulder. As she got more ill, she would lay in my arms until finally this past week, she lay in my lap.

I knew we were at the end because she gradually stopped eating. When I came home yesterday and saw that she hadn’t touched her food, and had taken to hiding under the love seat, I knew it was time. I spent the last hour with her in my arms, and she would barely raise her head. She slept on the way to the vet. Then in the parking lot, after I’d told them we’d arrived, she started to have a seizure. I panicked, as you’d expect, and called them to tell them what was happening. They took my little lady inside, examined her, and prepared her for the departure. We were in their garden, where I said my goodbyes to this little 20 year old love affair. When she lay down to sleep, I howled in anguish. It felt like a part of my soul was ripped out.

Now, in the office where she once kept me company, it feels empty. The house feels colder. My routine, disrupted. First thing that happened when I came down here today, I burst into tears, even though I’d managed to clean up the room when I got home yesterday. All the papers removed from the floor. All the towels and pillows put in the laundry room. Her tray which had her food bowls put in the kitchen for cleaning. And still I cry.

She was born in Tennessee, USA, on 10 October 1999, on of our millennium babies. Her mother was Miss Kitty, a stray we’d adopted, and her father, we suspected was probably Domino, a black and white short-hair that was in the neighborhood. We didn’t know that Miss Kitty was pregnant when we took her in. But she got big as a house and we knew. Xena was the second born; the first born was Simba, in a litter of five. Her brother Tiddles, who is on the counter upstairs, was the next. Then came Goatee and Merlin. Simba, Goatee and Merlin couldn’t come to the UK with me so I had to give them to a no-kill shelter which broke my heart.

Xena was the first of the litter to walk. I remember watching her as she tried to walk towards me and her back end always got ahead of her front end, thus making her tumble the way. She was the kitten we saw walking across the sofa back when we watched on the webcam from one of our trips. She was probably the most energetic but she was also attached to me. I recall how I used to wear this pull over with a big pocket. I think it’s called baja. Xena used to mountain climb up my leg with her little claws (yes, it wasn’t pleasant), and crawl into the pocket to go to sleep. I would walk all over the house with her asleep in there.

She was a well traveled cat. We moved from Tennessee to Massachusetts, then after three years down to Florida. From Florida, where we also spent three years, we moved up to Maryland while awaiting my divorce. And finally the great move to the UK. She was always one of the most well behaved of the cats. She never made a fuss, but she’s awaken if she heard my voice, so I tried to refrain from singing in the car on our travels. In the UK, going to and from the vet for her appointments, many times I’d have the cat carrier lid open and pet her while she looked out. If given the chance, she’d have climbed out and onto my shoulder.

I have so many happy memories. I can recall her meow, her purr. She always purred in my arms. I recall the feel of her in arms. I recall how she smelled, especially since I had to bathe her often towards the end.

One of my favorite memories was from our time in Massachusetts. I’d been given a task at work to set up an email system using UNIX and modems. There was hardly an internet at the time. The problem was testing out the scripts I’d written since I was on the modem at the time. One night, while I slept, I had a dream of Xena on my desk while I wrote these scripts and she was guiding me, pointing out ways of doing it. I woke with a start, since I don’t dream very often, and noticed that Xena was sitting my chest while I slept. When I went to work the next day, I tried out all the things from the dream and it was a success. Who knew that Xena was so wicked smart.

She also loved peas. I never knew a cat that liked peas. She’d take them off your plate whether you were looking or not. She also loved to eat pasta. She’d actually pick it up with her paw and nibble at pasta. Xena always looked forward to McDonald’s cheeseburgers. When I ordered from McD’s, I made sure to get a plain cheeseburger with no sauces or onions. Then I’d break up the patty into little pieces and feed them to her, while she drooled.

She also loved ice cream. But she would frequently get brain freeze when she ate it. She’d get a couple licks in and then shake her head. Rinse and repeat.

So once again, now all I have are memories, pictures. And a huge hole in my heart where her presence used to be. I’ll need to fill that up with her love and memories. I love you, my little lady, and I’ll miss you terribly.

Categories: General

Tagged as: grief Wildcat

wildcatleeds

I keep ya guessing