Norman, when we first met you it was peak kitten season at the Humane Society. There were TONS of kittens and I was writing down the numbers of all the ones I wanted to hold and “test out” on a piece of paper. Suddenly one of the friends we were with said, “Oh my God, Becky. Look at this kitten.” In a sea of cute you somehow managed to out-cute them all. You were the most darling ball of orange fluff I’ve ever seen. I tossed that scrap of paper faster than you can blink and stood in front of the cage, blocking anyone else from seeing you. You were mine.
We originally brought you home because our angel Charlie was acting up, and we thought maybe she would like a kitten. Ha! She didn’t take very kindly to you, but that didn’t stop you from sneaking up when she was sleeping to try and get a cuddle. After she left us too soon, we thought maybe you needed a friend, and that is when the love affair of a lifetime began.
You were still just under a year old when, to everyone’s surprise I walked in with this bony, crusty, adult cat we lovingly named El Guapo. At the Humane Society they had educated me about how to slowly introduce you two over the course of a few weeks. Again, ha! The suspense was killing me, so I introduced you two right away. You hissed for the first time in your life, Guapo blinked and the rest is a story of endless snuggles, licks and adorable antics.
You were also the first cat we introduced to Lucy. We knew you were gentle and kind and would want to meet the new creature in the house. Since birth Lucy has been surrounded by fur and snuggles--so many of them with you.
A few weeks ago we noticed your eyes were irritated. That led to a cancer diagnosis. As a baby when we first brought you home you were very sick. We nicknamed you “Ducky” because you kept sneezing and it sounded like you were quacking. We came full circle, trying to coax you with chicken broth, baby food and eggs in the end, just like the beginning. We resolved to make your last days as comfortable as possible and took comfort in the fact that we could help you avoid pain.
Lucy and I went and picked out a bed for you, big enough, of course, for Guapo to get in as well for a snuggle.
I think he knew. That day as I waited by the phone for your diagnosis he sat in my lap for hours. And on those low days he was always by your side, a bonded pair for life.
On the last day we knew something was different. You came upstairs again and even jumped on the bed, even though you hadn’t eaten in over a week. By late afternoon your body was telling us it was time to go. I’m glad you spent so many hours sleeping on your Daddy’s lap that day. After checking my camera the next day, I realized you also went upstairs and visited Lucy's bedroom and snuggled in her bed. I think you knew it was your last night with us.
You made it exactly two weeks. Thank you for giving us that. I spent many hours brushing your fur. I knew you would want your mane to look nice when you left. Lucy read you books and sang you songs. Guapo licked your head and hogged the bed.
I was with you and Dr. Johnson as you drew your last breaths. Stroking your beautiful fur, telling you what a good boy you are, looking into your eyes. It was peaceful, and yes, your looked pretty
Afterwards we bought two balloons, one white and one orange. A white one for my parent’s dog Jack who recently passed and an orange one for you. We let Lucy release them and disappear into the clouds as we heard out neighbor’s son practice his violin. He was playing "Pure Imagination," from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
You brought so much quiet, gentle joy to our lives. Thank you for 11 fluffy years of love. We will forever miss you.
There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly wish to be
xo Mommy