The Wait
Hagar. Bunny. Rillibee. Eli. Tully. Tigger. Clancy. Harley. Boogie. Nikki. Patrol. Sheena. Tuco. Unkie. Champ. Wee Felice. Bunny (no relation). Tux. Havok. Kitty.
Most are already gone now.
And Kitty is about to leave us.
These are the diabetic cats that brought together a group of women in the US and Canada beginning in the 90s. I could not list them all. There are far too many. The cats I’ve listed above are those from a group of cat mothers who had stuck together through many upheavals in the diabetic cat world (and if you think there wouldn’t be any, you don’t know people). A few of those moms drifted away once their diabetics passed away, and that’s sad to me.
Today Clancy will have been gone for four years.
Imbolc.
A time for new beginnings.
I chose to stay with the other moms. I thought they might remind me of the good times that I had no longer, the head butts and the punches in my eye when I peeked over the arm of the sofa at the saucer pupils of The Hunter. I thought I’d remember lying in bed at night with 16 pounds of orange curled into my left armpit and scamper away from the message board, never looking back. They did remind me of all of those things. It turned out that it wasn’t harmful to my psyche at all. I stayed. Even if only to touch base once a month when life is absurdly busy here, I refused to burn my bridges and kept one hand on these women. Sometimes one finger.
Clancy is calling to Kitty now. None of us is even close to ready to handle this, as even though Kitty is 18 years old he is a legend. Kitty is a giant. Kitty has gone amazingly long stretches without requiring insulin. Kitty used to receive his meals in bed dished into cardboard soda boxes cut into bowls. Kitty gives good love.
And last week Kitty took his geriatric ass outside and caught himself a mouse.
Kitty plans to leave with a bang. This is as it should be.
My tears yesterday evening and overnight were not for him. He’s had a life finer than many cats ever dream. He’s had the best of “parents,” he’s been what non-animal people would call “spoiled” beyond belief, and even though over his long years his health wasn’t always perfect- he’s always made the best of it.
My tears are for the people who love him. His posse of Internet Aunts, who fretted over his downturns and cheered his triumphs, will have a gaping hole. His parents, who had no human children and directed every ounce of love at their massive furry boy, will be completely devastated. Kitty is an only child. There are no “Emergency Backup Cats” at home to ease the pain of his departure. They will feel grief, and they will feel guilt, and they will always wonder if the decisions they made were the correct ones. We always do, we cat people who love so deeply. We have a tendency to examine hindsight for every little glimmer of what might have been. Did we wait too long? Should we have waited longer? Might there have been another rally?
Self-flagellation with a drip line.
Time does heal. Some. Four years on, though, I watch the calendar at the end of January and feel my chest tighten. I see preparations being made for Groundhog Day, but I remember that four years ago I was kneeling my pregnant self on the floor in the laundry room, holding my beloved on a puppy pad, begging him to urinate. Listening to him cry. Seeing the thousand yard stare in his eyes that let me know he was seeing What Comes Next. February 2nd I wake up and remember that I held him in my arms as long as I could, even while driving us to the vet’s office, and that when the time came I cradled him to me while he finally focused for the last time on my face.
Time heals, but it doesn’t erase.
As a group of women we have sat many vigils over a deathwatch, canceling plans so as to be available online when the moment had come, and we were needed. Last night I saw so many of us online, waiting for news, dreading the news, hoping that our experiences could in some way help these amazing people through their coming pain.
I just checked for an update, and the news is not good.
I will light my candle and pray that this goes as well as can possibly be. I will check on them all day, desperately wanting a miracle, knowing that it’s not going to happen.
Today at 230, Clancy will be there for Kitty, ready to lead him to the best hunting grounds. In my mind they will cross together, maintaining the proper male cat distance between shoulders. There will be much stretching in the sun and butting of heads.
Imbolc. A time of new beginnings.
Hug your pet today.
27 Responses to “The Wait”
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- - March 9, 2010
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It’s not even 7:30 and I’m sitting here sobbing into my coffee.
Safe journey Kitty. I have no doubt whatsoever that Clancy will show you the way.
I wish Kitty’s human people peace during this time.
Now I’m going to go hug Oberon.
Thank you, Kath. It’s going to be a tough day.
Kitty – they will all be there waiting for you… you will be complete, well as complete as you can be without your mom and dad, but you will be watching over them and holding them closely.
Thank you, Trish.
Thank you, Julie. You said it better than I ever could….
Jenni & Champ
(((hugs)))
oh julie, so well said. eli will be there, reserving the best sun spot for kitty, making sure those wings fit him just fine.
Those wings will have to be the size of a continent.
Oh, Julie, that was so eloquent and heartfelt. I can barely see through my tears. What you said applied to all of us who have had to make The Decision.
Thank you Linda. If only they could live forever.
Julie, that was beautiful. I know that Rillibee and Marcus will try to squish up against Kitty as he walks by and greets the friends he never knew. There will be a full day of greeting the new and old ones, Quirk, Sophia, Rambo, they will feast together and tell tales of their lives and toast their parents and prepare for our arrivals.
They will be beautiful and strong again and the canyon walls will shake as they show off their manly, leonine roars. It’s not thunder, it’s Rillibee.
You are without a doubt the greatest poet I have ever met.
Love to you.
Beautiful Julie… I remember the day, the words, of most of those passings and rejoice in the memories of all. Not many left… the baby-cats, the man-cats, the gorgeous “sweet” ones.
As a fellow “only child”, I know Tigger will be there to tell Kitty that his beans will be okay without him. They won’t realize if for a while, and they will cry for months and lift to their noses everything that may possibly retain his smell, but they will be okay and eventually they will smile at every memory instead of weep.
The bed will always be just a bit empty, though.
Yes. Tough days for us, blessings for them. They’re all so missed.
Super-sad, super-beautiful.
Life is a series of animal companions.
– c.
And thank goodness for that.
Oh, Julie. I saw Tully’s name and burst into tears. It’s been a little over 5 years since he left me and it seems like yesterday and it seems an eternity, all at the same time. But today, today is for Kitty. I am picturing our glorious man-cats together. The stories they could tell – the love they gave, and received – the joy they brought us is boundless.
Thank you for your words today. We are the lucky ones, aren’t we – the Ones Who Know. The Ones Who Loved, and therefore The Ones Who Grieved and Grieve Still.
Tully’s last vial of insulin is still in the door of the fridge. I can’t imagine tossing it out now.
I need to stop babbling now and go light a candle.
We are lucky beyond words. They made us better people. Sounds trite, but it’s true. Love to you.
I would rather cut off a finger than throw away that last bottle of Lantus.
When we moved Clancy’s open bottle of U went into my fire box. Didn’t seem right to put it in this fridge. Everything else is in the Clancy Box.
i have a kitty tote. it has his sleeping bag and old insulin and old meds and toys. i had to “move them” today and kept busy but they are all waiting…
Keep busy for sure. Sending you and Rick loads of love.
Beautiful, Julie! Thanks for writing this and for remember my Tux. Tomorrow will be 5 years since my beloved Sneekers left me and I have no doubt that he and Tux were with the welcoming committee for Kitty.
We all know the pain that Ada & Rick are going through right now and we are crying with them but you put it into words so well. The love we’ve shared and the legacy of those wonderful, furry ones who brought us all together will live on forever……
Can you imagine the party there tonight? They have to be having a blast together.
i didn’t change a thing for 3 months after eli’s passing. eventually, i had to get rid of the insulin, as it went from a comfort seeing it each time i opened the fridge, to a pang of heartache… but his “box” of meter, supplies, etc, is in the same spot in the livingroom, including the vaseline (that’s one thing i could never get rid of).
Thank you , Julie. That was so beautiful and heartfelt.
It’s been almost four years now since Sheena left, but I still can’t get rid of her last bottle of insulin, her meter or her subQ fluids.
I know that must be one amazing party they’re having for Kitty at the bridge tonight!