Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!
"...besides love, independence of thought is the greatest gift an adult can give a child." - Bryce Courtenay, The Power of One
For old quotes, look here.
For old quotes, look here.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Last weekend, the kids and I went down to an event in Florida. My band had a gig, and I thought it'd be a nice camp-out for us as well. We had a lovely time at a beautiful site.
We headed home on Sunday.
As I was breaking camp and packing, Someone texted me and asked me to call him. I needed a break, so I paused tear-down and dialed him up.
With a broken voice and a broken heart, he informed me that he'd found one of our beloved furbabies dead that morning. She'd been acting a bit off since before we left, but not worryingly so, and then on Saturday she'd seemed content to sit in the sun room on the fluffy pink heart pillow and collect pets and love whenever he passed through. That night, she took her accustomed place at the foot of the big, comfy bed, went to sleep, and slipped away sometime in the dark hours.
I told the Evil Genius and we cried a bit together. I opted to wait and tell Sprout once we were on the road - she was having a fine old time catching caterpillars and chasing chickens with a few new friends, I didn't want to spoil it for her. We all had a cry as I drove, and talked about what we loved and would miss about our Rookers.
She was a damn fine cat. She was a marvelous mouser. We will miss her lashing tail, which usually indicated she required more petting, now, if you please. She had an odd "meow", likely the result of the enormous wolf worm I removed from her neck when she was a kitten (the reason she was brought into Casa de Crazy in the first place) and she was hilarious when we played and got her riled up enough to spit. She had fierce eyes and a huge backside - I would call her a footstool kitteh - and acted like she owned the place, as any cat would.
She usually slept at the foot of the bed, guardian of my feet, but sometimes would lie beside me and consent to let me sleep with my hand on her.
She only just started purring sometime in the last year.
She was eight, not so very old for a cat but old enough for her, I guess. We won't know what caused her death; I opted not to have a necropsy because it won't change anything.
On Monday, the kids and I took her up to Mom's to bury under the Evil Genius's tree, next to the circle. Someone had to start his new job and couldn't come with us, but I made sure that a laser pointer went in with her - she loved the damned thing and would perk up and come running as soon as he clicked the button - and Mizz A was with us, too. She takes care of the kittehs and the kids when we're working or away, and is family to us. We all helped dig the hole, placed her in, said a few words, returned her to The Mother, and had a little cry.
I miss her in fits and starts, looking for her when I put down the leftover milk from my cereal or sit on the lounge. Today I stripped the big, comfy bed and wondered where my furry helper was - she liked to jump up on the bed when I took the sheets off and put fresh ones on, especially when I tossed the sheet over her and she was a cave kitteh.
May her journey over the rainbow bridge be swift and easy. May she leave behind all memory of sorrow and pain, and carry with her all of her memories of happiness and love. May she be met by those who went before her with fellowship and joy. May there be catnip, mice to chase, lots of loving petting, a soft cushion in the warm sun, and wet food to nom, and if she returns to the circle, may those of us who loved her recognize her once again.