Saturday, November 11, 2017

Nineteen Years...


It's been 19 years since that little cat left us.

It still hurts. I nearly lost my mind. To this day I don't know why.

But he was such a good little kitty. Loved to sing, loved to play fetch. An awfully good hunter as well.

See you on the other side Tiger. We all still miss you, and love you.

Full story here.


20 comments:

  1. "Some of you will no doubt understand. Thank you."

    Yes, Sarge, we do.

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  2. Friends come in strange shapes, sometimes.

    Sometimes I feel my missing friends are around me, waiting for the day I join them.

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  3. I understand your pain as I too feel the pain of loss of four legged companions.

    Paul L. Quandt

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  4. Our cat Emily was with us for 18 years. She started out with her sister at the neighbors house across the street. One day, she just decided to move in and adopt us. At the end, she became diabetic. During the last six months or so, she let us prick her ear for blood to check her sugar level. If she seem disoriented, we grabbed the maple syrup to bring her levels back up.

    They give us unwavering loyalty, and are always glad to see us. And they never judge us. Ever.

    And they are all waiting for us at the rainbow bridge.

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  5. How barren our lives would be without pets.

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    Replies
    1. Yes, absolutely true. Love with no reservations.

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  6. I can'r read the Rainbow Bridge poem without going completely soggy. I spent five years as a post-surgical spay/neuter volunteer and more time fostering cats--I've seen a lot of traffic on that bridge. Heartbreaking, but I regret very little of it....

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    1. I'll admit it, I was fine today until I went back and read that old post.

      That poem breaks me every time. I have a lot of friends waiting there, some canine, some feline. All loved, all missed.

      Delete
  7. I still miss Monty, and died in 1978!

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  8. I has been a week, now, since I had to say "Good-Bye" to MAX, The MAXimum Cat, after a little over 12 years together. In that time, I went through a bankruptcy, a divorce, a job change, two moves, and a house purchase.

    MAX was one of the few constants in all of that.

    Finally reached a point where everything looked reasonably secure and stable, and he got sick.

    I've had and lost many pets over the years, but losing MAX tore me up inside in a way I hadn't expected.


    I hope I can see him again.

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    Replies
    1. MAX sounds like my kind of cat.

      What a bitter loss!

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  9. Well, I can sure understand how you felt...feel still.
    I've lost so many kitties in my life...and I've grieved for every one of them.
    I enjoy blogging a "crazy Cat Lady" day better than anything else.
    Doggies too, but those fe-lions own my heart.
    Did I ever tell you that I'm a total sucker for Black & Whites?
    I yam.

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    Replies
    1. You have mentioned your love for the Black & Whites.

      For me, I love 'em all, no matter what color.

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  10. Anyone with cats or dogs is sadly so familiar with that feeling. I had a similar experience with my "first" cat (brother and sister each had one before when living at home). She was a tiny gray rescue kitten found in a snowstorm by a dumpster, who I adopted at a particularly difficult period in my life. I named her Willow, because she was as gray and soft as a pussy willow, but Mom called her Itty Kitty because she was such an itty bitty little kitty, and Itty stuck. She loved playing fetch with the plastic rings off of milk jugs if you sent them skittering along the kitchen floor. An excellent hunter with blindingly fast reflexes, even for a cat. When I got married, she very appropriately fell in love with my wife and would ignore me if her lap was available, and her cat (a real hellion whose trust had to be earned) did the same with me. When we moved to Texas, she developed asthma, and we discovered that she'd collapsed her left lung at some point. That's apparently not uncommon, a price cats pay for their extreme flexibility. Steroids helped with her asthma, but she developed pneumonia. It was a balancing act between drugs that could help one thing, but exacerbate another, and she declined quickly. We tried one other drug, and she seemed to recover. So much so that she was racing around the house with the midnight crazies, chirping and singing and purring. Then we came home from work and she was worse. The next morning, she was obviously in great distress, with my wife's cat curled up next to her (something that had never happened before). We knew it was time. We took her in, and she took great interest in looking around despite her distress. That was unusual because she hated car rides and would hide on the floor if she wasn't in a carrier. It was the dreariest low cloudy day, and I couldn't keep the tears from my eyes as I dug her grave and we buried her with her favorite brush, wrapped in baby blanket she loved, under the bushes she liked to lurk under. And as I finished burying her, the sun came out for 1 very brief minute, and my wife thought it was a sign. I couldn't argue. Man, I loved that little kitty.

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    1. Ah man, Larry. That made me cry, such a sweet cat and such wonderful humans to care for her.

      Thank you for sharing that.

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