We wouldn't enjoy the sunny days nearly as much if there weren't a few cloudy ones in between.
This year, I believe I've had my full share of clouds.
How do you put into words the feelings you possess for a loved one who has been there through many of your darkest trials? Who greets you when you come home, who is content to sit with you, no matter which room you choose to rest, or work? Who, when you're upset, gently lays a furry paw on your arm as if to say, "That's okay - I'm here."
Sorry - I'm talking about the cat. Mandy has been with us for thirteen and a half years. She turned fourteen in May. She came into our lives one balmy, January day. I had arrived at the school where I taught for half a day, and there at the door was a little gray Tabby kitten. It watched me walk inside, where I was instantly greeted with, "Is that cat still out there?"
Temperatures were predicted to drop through the day to sub-zero that night. One of my colleagues implored me to take the cat home, with the excuse that I had children! I also had a husband, which I reminded her of, saying that if I brought home the poor little thing, I would be out on the porch! True to the prediction, the temps did drop - and stayed that way for a good three months! She seemed very content to be in the warm house. She got her name because the custodian at the school called her "Miss Kitty" all day. When we sat around her on the kitchen floor that evening, I suggested Amanda (for Amanda Blakely, the original Miss Kitty from Gunsmoke). Big Brother wanted to call her Felix, but I nixed that one. They decided on Mandy (which was fine by me - Barry Manilow being one of my favorites!). So, Mandy she is.
Well, thirteen years later.... Mandy has been my constant companion; greeting me at the door when she hears the car pull into the driveway, begging for tuna every Friday in Lent. She adored Eggbert, and simply loves Ms. Business and Moink. Face it, she loves us all. When Morticia pops in, or Big Brother, she can't help but make her presence known. They must pay homage to the kitty by rubbing her on the head and a little scratch behind the ears. Contented, she retreats.
She started acting a little strange a few weeks ago. Her go-to place is under my desk, and she stays there for hours. Or, she'll come upstairs, meowing in a very grumpy fashion, and then disappears back to the basement, under the desk, of course. Ms. Business pointed out a swollen spot on her mouth, and when I called the vet (where she'd been given a clean bill of health just a few weeks before), they said maybe her tooth was abscessed. Who knew that kitties could get abscessed teeth?
However, I wasn't convinced. You know when someone you love isn't at their best. She was barely eating and drinking. The appointment was made for her to see the kitty dentist. Today, DH left work, picked up Ms. Business and poor kitty, and together they took her to the vet for surgery. Believe me, I've been sick over this for the last two weeks, wondering if she would even make it to the appointment. They would operate at noon - I should get a call by two o'clock, which I did. The prognosis was not good.
This afternoon, I picked her up and spoke with the specialist. The tooth was not abscessed - in fact, he said, she had great teeth for a fourteen year old cat! He confirmed my worst fear - there was a mass growing inside her jaw. They sent it out for biopsy, but basically we talked about spoiling her, and making her feel like a queen for the time she has left. Sort of like kitty hospice, I suppose. So, I bought the really nice, expensive pate' that she likes, and of course, tuna. The saddest and hardest part is knowing that even though he cut out a huge part of it, the mass will continue to grow. We don't want her to live in pain, and she's miserable (otherwise she wouldn't keep hiding under the desk!).
Moink has taken it well. He's bereft, as we all are. After all, he was four when I brought her home. He doesn't remember what it was like not having her. And, he was always her boy. When he became upset, she did, too, seeking him out, sitting next to him and watching him, as if she could take away everything that was making him sad.
We want to do that for her, too, so we'll pet her and love her and try to give her what she needs, the only way we can thank a furry friend who has given nothing but her best to the people she loves.
Man, I hate cloudy days.
So so sorry.
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