Jamais vu

I was looking through my pictures to depict the feeling of gratitude and quiet joy I feel in my heart this morning. This post was initially going to be of a "gratitude journal" type of theme. 

Then I stumbled upon these eerily similar photos: 

April 25, 2017 7:07 a.m.

August 11, 2019 8:28 a.m.

"Hmmm, Ray. I feel like we've been here before," wordlessly communicated by Jet (who I now realize should have been named "Déjà vu" as he was a mirror image of our cat, André who died a few months prior to Jet's adoption).

October 16, 2013 8:06 a.m.

(Ray is still resting in his "usual" spot, while André rests on the carpet)

Do you think cats have those déjà vu moments too? Or do you think a cat feels like their entire life is on repeat day after day after day? It's no wonder our bored little kitty (Jet) is always stirring up trouble around here. He's tired of living a life where every day feels the same.

Jet is pursuing a life of jamais vu (the feeling that something familiar appears strange and unfamiliar; it is the opposite of déjà vu ~ as defined by quora.com).

May you have a day filled with moments of familiarity, mixed with a renewed perspective to keep your life feeling fresh and new. Happy Jamais Vu to you!!

If it Works, Don't Get Rid Of It

The Great Purge of 2015 began in April. I painstakingly went through our kitchen cupboards and cleared out what I deemed to be unnecessary at some point during the Easter long weekend.

It hurt. It was physically and emotionally draining. I brought up a big box and placed our unused items within. I told myself I could change my mind. Putting these items in a box was not a commitment. It was a step.

I placed said box downstairs and hid it within an unused bedroom. While it sat there, it gained a lot of company. The next thing I knew, the pile of boxes in my give away pile was massive. I was ready to take the plunge and start donating that which was within the boxes.

Packaged carefully within "Box #1" was my Magic Bullet. I usually have a back up Bullet on hand in case of emergency. My worst nightmare would be to have my morning smoothie all prepared and for my bullet to break down. What would I do? I would have to immediately run out and buy another bullet in order to save the day. So I keep one "on deck" at all times.

The other reason I had a spare Magic Bullet in my closet is because the original Magic Bullets were durable. The base lasted and lasted and lasted. But the tabs on the cups broke off. As it often is, it was almost as cheap to buy another Magic Bullet, as it was to buy replacement cups.

Long story short, I decided to crack open my brand new bullet and donate the one I had been using. I had all sorts of parts and accessories that came with the original bullet on hand. I hadn't used those for a decade so I felt safe in the decision to get rid of those. But the base? I had severe reservations about that. It made sense to package it up and give it all away as a package deal.

Several months after that decision was made, I finally "bit the bullet" and donated the box containing my reliable, original Magic Bullet away.

I cleaned out the cupboards in April. I had to replace the brand new bullet in July. Then again in October. And the third one bit the dust in January. I have gone through four Magic Bullets in nine months.

Kudos to Canadian Tire, I must mention. They will give you your money back on defective products as long as you have the original receipt. So the only bullet I wasn't able to get a full refund on, was the back up bullet I had sitting in a closet for an undetermined amount of time as it waited for "The Original" to break down.

Why they have changed what worked (the Original Bullet withstood the test of time, it was just the cups that needed to be replaced) and changed it into a contraption that won't let go of your cup at times (I was not the only one who had run into this - I googled it, to find a solution as to how to release a stuck cup and the forum was full of others with the same problem).

Three brand new Magic Bullets bit the dust in nine months. Three!

I didn't abuse the product. I use it to make my morning smoothie (with frozen sliced strawberries and blueberries because it can't handle the unsliced frozen fruits nor ice) each morning. Neither the motor, nor the cutting mechanism were the problem. It was the ability to release the cups which caused such grief.

Why did I continue to buy Magic Bullets when I found them to be defective? Because I (finally) had a stockpile of Magic Bullet cups which only work with the Magic Bullet. Since it was the cups that I originally had troubles with, I thought I'd stick with a product that served me well ever since I bought "the original" off of a late night/early morning infomercial ad on TV back in the early days of Magic Bullets. back in 2006. Two of "the originals" got me through nine years. Three of the shoddy imitation imposters did not even get me through one year.

Thankfully I found a back up bullet on an on-line auction site. For a mere $10.00, I purchased this little treasure along with a bag full of miscellaneous kitchen items. There is no guarantee but I can hope that it came from an era where the Magic Bullet lasted longer than three months.

And that is my rant for today.

**In other amazing  but unrelated  news, the cell phone I dropped in the toilet (also in April, 2015) started trying to download photos yesterday morning. That feature hasn't worked since it hit the water nine months ago.

Yes, April of 2015 was a month that seems to come back and haunt me when I least expect it ... I had a dream about Andre (aka: Senior Cat, who died in April of 2015) last night. I miss that tiny purring bundle of fur. It was good to see him in my dreams.**

The moral of my story is:

"If it works, don't get rid of it!

If it doesn't work, don't give up on it.

And on a side note, love never dies. 

Keep it close to you in your heart and it warms your heart and may return to you in your dreams."

One From the Archives

I am writing over at MyKarwartha.com today. I was searching through the archives of this blog to try and figure out when I gave away my original Magic Bullet (I have gone through four magic bullets in the past nine months). The month was April. The year was 2015. I thought I'd search my archives to see if I could find prove of the date of the beginning of my Time of Great Purging. And I found this ...
http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6232134-one-from-the-archives/

Black is the New Black - The Final Instalment (or is it?)

Jet - Not Just Another Black Cat

What does a person do, when they have room in their heart to love another pet and a free Saturday at their disposal? Our answer? We went to the SPCA to look for a dog. We came home with "Jet" instead. Let's just call him our pup, for lack of a better description.

Jet, our new not-so-little "pup", has turned out to be quite the imposter. He is not only a cat, but he put out a little bit of false advertising when he jumped into my arms at the SPCA five months ago ...

He purred for us and even drooled a bit. Andre had a monster purr we could hear across the room. Jet was not a loud purrer but he purred. That little drop of drool was the clincher. Andre purred so loud and so long that he could not contain his saliva. It was a weird little quirk but one of the many things we grew to love about him.

We thought Jet was going to be a cuddler. It turns out he was just desperate to get out of that cage. He loved us so hard in those moments of freedom and gave us the illusion that he was going to nestle into our lives and provide the snuggles we missed so dearly.

We were told Jet was a year old so we assumed he was full grown. He came into our world a tiny, adult cat and fit perfectly into Andre's old cat harness. That was one of many signs that told us he was "just the right fit" for us. Well, that little adult cat still had some growing to do. He isn't quite as big as our little black panther cat, Ray. But he is close. So much for the petite little cat we assumed we adopted. But that's okay, we just have a few more pounds of him to love.

Our sociable little fur ball must have been so lacking for human companionship that he was over the moon to be skin to fur with another living being. Knowing now, what we didn't know then, I can't imagine how Jet survived in a tiny little pen for twenty days. He can barely survive a weekend without my daycare family, he gets bored so easily.

Yet our little black fraud has become so much more than we ever could imagined during that brief interview at the SPCA.

He has become a best buddy to our cat already in residence. I don't think Ray really minded being an only cat after Andre died. He has a quiet, loving presence and loves to be loved but he is so scared by the world in general. He has lived with us for two and a half years. yet he still jumps at any sudden (or not so sudden) move or noise. Watching the companionship blossom between our two black buddies has been heart warming. Ray came into our lives ready, willing and eager to play with Andre but Andre's kitten days were long over and we now know that his health was already starting to decline. Ray's attempts to play with our ailing cat were met with nips at his ankles. Enter "Jet" our playful little kitten, in a black cat's fur coat and our house is lively and the fur is flying once more.

Jet must have been getting tired of being confused with "who's who" and all the comparisons to his black furred predecessors, because as soon as the opportunity presented itself, he tried to distinguish himself from the others:

"A little dab of white paint on my left paw and ear ought to teach them I am NOT just another black cat!" Jet must have thought as a white paintbrush went flying and our Curious Cat ended up looking quite unique in his new coat of paint.

Little did he realize at the time, he came with his own distinguishing features. No additional paint required. He has three little splotches of white on his left hip, he has a fluffy tail and when the light is right, you can see that he will most likely turn a shade of rusty brown as he ages.

Our "jet black" cat is many shades of black in and of himself, with a few "paint splotches" tossed in for good measure.

He stepped into Andre's role as "Daycare Kitty" like a champ and perhaps he takes it one or two steps further:

Andre

Jet

Andre

Jet

Andre

Jet

Andre

Jet

 Meanwhile, Ray tends to investigate the daycare toys when the kids have gone home for the day ...

... or from a safe vantage point behind a child proof gate.

These guys are not just another black cat. They are unique in their shades of ebony, the way they reflect their lives within our home and hearts and uniqueness that goes far deeper than the color of their fur.

This is the end of my "Black Cat Series" for now. Will it end here or will we perpetuate the trend of choosing another black cat some time in the future? My Youngest commented they felt badly that so many people wouldn't choose a black cat, I can see "black" being their color of choice for any cat they may get in their future. Personally, I just hope these guys have a good, long life with us. I look forward to the years where their fur becomes speckled in grey and their blackness may evolve to brown. I like what our little black cats have brought into our lives. And I've enjoyed having an excuse to bring Andre back into my Cat Tales. Andre, the Original Black Cat. Who knew that little cat who was tossed into our back yard would make such a difference?

Black is the New Black - Our Second Shade of Black

Ray - Our "Back Up Cat" and So Much More - Cat II, in our III Cat Series

When we went "window shopping" for our second cat, it was just supposed to be an excuse to go for a drive out to a town just outside of our city. It was supposed to give us food for thought for another day.

We came home that night and I was sold on the idea of fostering the quiet big, black panther of a cat who was looking for a home. My son was adamant we adopt him. "What if someone else wanted to adopt him after he has become part of our family?" He couldn't bear the thought of falling in love with a cat, only to have him taken away from us. It was an unlikely possibility (we were told that many people won't adopt a black cat), but it was there.

I liked the idea that the vet bills would have been covered, if we had gone the fostering route but time would tell us that my son's route was the best way to go. For all of us.

It seems ironic to me that our skittish big, black panther's signature pose was this:

Who can resist reaching out and loving a cat who shows such trust? Certainly not us! Ray's body language was very deceiving though. He is the most fearful and skittish cat I have ever known.

I would love to know Ray's back story. He must have led a very traumatic life before he found us because he is scared of everything and everybody. I called him our "Scaredy Cat" but I have since realized he is more like a butterfly. Sit still, let him come to you and he will gingerly approach you. Pursue him and he is gone. Like a butterfly.

Ray's gentle nature was endearing to our senior cat, Andre. He approached Andre with respect and reverence. He would hunker his head down and nuzzle into Andre's chest as if to say, "Do you want to play??" Andre's playing days were nearing an end by the time Ray joined us. But we enjoyed the cat tussles while they lasted.

We adopted Ray in the spring and Andre started doctoring in the fall. We weren't quite sure what Andre was fighting but lungs were compromised and we savored each breath he took for the year and a half that followed.

Ray followed Andre's lead, showed us what a gentleman and gentle cat he was and he worked his way deep into our hearts.

Ray is laying on the floor; Andre is gingerly playing with the ear plug Ray snatched from my second son's room. Andre nips at Ray and Ray just backs off and lets him be. What a gentle and respectful cat  he is!

I will always wonder how well cats understand each other. Did Ray know how ill his brother cat really was? Did he know more than we did at that point? No matter what he knew or didn't know, or what Andre was able to communicate to him or not, Ray took it upon himself to endear himself to my son.

When my son returned home from a long day at school, Ray would wait to be invited onto my son's lap, then he would lap up all the love my son had to offer. I sat back and watched the non-verbal communication between the two of them. Ray's tail is the most animated tail I've ever known. He would caress my son's face and chin with his tail as my son petted him. It was a mutual adoration society for two.

It was not a surprise but it was still a shock to our systems when Andre died this year. He was loved and he knew it. We were with him when he took his last labored breaths and it was an honor. He left this world surrounded in love. Our hearts ached and there was a crater in our life where Andre used to be. Ray stepped up to the plate and let us hold and love him in the way we needed to during those dark days. Our skittish, stand offish, not-so-cuddly cat crawled onto my empty lap and helped my heart heal. Maybe he needed us as much as we needed him. It was a very good time to have a "back up cat". But by that time he was so much more. Just as he always has been.

Ray is so sensitive and gentle with us, as we are with him. He knows he is adored and he seems secure in that knowledge even though he still doesn't trust me enough to know I'm not going to hurt him if he is sitting, standing or laying in my way. Our little "broken" cat may always have trust issues but we are certainly not going to make matters worse for him. We just keep loving him in the way he needs to be loved and he reciprocates the feeling.

Andre's last Christmas with us. He snuggled up on my lap, while Ray stood by in the background, ready to take on the role of "Only Cat" when the time came.

Note the shade of black in one of Andre's later pictures. Our first and original black cat changed to a rusty shade of brown/black in his final years. Apparently this is normal but it was the first we had heard of it. 

Ray's healthy shiny, ebony coat of blackness would carry us through one of the saddest periods of our lives. He filled our broken hearts with cat-love and antics which continue to endear him to us more with each passing day.

Andre could never be replaced. We didn't even want to try. Maybe we would get a dog one day, but not a cat. No cat could step into the paw prints Andre left in our hearts.

Stay tuned for the third instalment of our story. Would we get a black dog? Or would Andre's shadow forever remain a lighter shade of blackness within our lives? Is one cat ever enough once you know you have room in your heart for two?

Black is the New Black - Part I

While discussing possible dance costume choices, I remember a dance instructor telling me that the color black is one of the hardest colors to match. He went on to say that people think "black is black" but he said there are so many shades of black that it is nearly impossible to find a perfect match.

I thought of this statement as I marvelled and enjoyed the distinct differences between our three black cats. Not only is/was their hair texture slightly different, the way the light reflects off them is different as well. The tones, the shades, the hues are all quite unique. And that is just their hair.

Their personalities are so very different and uniquely special unto themselves. The one thing I love best about all three of them is their "beta cat" quality. No one pushed hard to be the leader of the pack but each one of them has/had their own personal limits.

It is hard to pick a tense to write in because I am referring to Andre, our "original black cat"; as well as Ray, formerly known as "Junior Cat"; and Jet, basically known as "Jet" who is the newest black cat to pick us as his family.

Andre - Our Original Black Cat - Cat I of a III Cat Series

We noticed the title of the chapter this book is turned to, long after the fact. Recently, we were sorting through and organizing our cat photos when we noticed the caption "To Be Chosen". I was simply taking a picture of our most cuddly black cat, snuggled up on my lap, half covering the page I was reading. He had the most unique way of getting our attention. For him to choose to settle on my lap on that exact page, then for us not to even notice until after he had died, felt like an omen of some sort.

Andre was the original. He set the bar and broke the mold. He wasn't even supposed to be our cat. Some kids threw him into our yard during a lunch break at school and my second son rescued him and tucked him away safely in his room. As my son left to go back to school, he told me there was a cat in his room. "Just leave him until I get back home..." Well, as they say, the rest is history.

I have written so many Andre Tales within the contents of this blog, I suddenly want to go back and read them. His evolution of being the youngest and newest of a three cat family to becoming our "one and only cat". He was our original Daycare Kitty. He was the trail blazer, an adventure seeker and a friend to one and all. His purr was the best purr I've ever heard in my life. You could hear him across a room. It seemed like he delighted himself by making us smile and he performed on so very many different levels for us.

My youngest and I spent so much time loving our little black cat, marvelling at his ways, savoring his love, laughing at his antics and simply watching him at play. Andre followed her to bed so when I popped in to say good night, Andre would become the centre of our conversation and this is quite likely when our daily "Cat Chat" originated.

It was a sad day when I realized Andre wasn't eating much and started to lose weight. I was terrified this was the beginning of the end of his story. Looking back, it quite likely was. But I bought soft cat food, found his favorite brand and flavor and slowly, but surely he regained his appetite so by the time he went for his annual vet visit, he was almost back at the weight from the previous year.

I never quite recovered from the scare and I knew how devastated my youngest (not to mention myself) would be if "anything ever happened" to Andre. So after Andre seemed to be doing much better and eating well again, we went cat shopping. I wasn't ready to commit but I thought we could look into the idea of fostering a cat. And that is the beginning of Ray's story and how his original title, only known to me at the time, was that of a "back up cat".

All we knew for sure when we went looking for cats was that we wanted a male cat. There were only two male cats at the time and one of them was a definite "Alpha" male, so that immediately put him out of the running. Our quiet and respectful Beta cat at home would surely shrivel up and die if some Alpha male walked in and took over. So our attention was drawn to the only other male available. We heard his story and how docile he was among the other cats. Despite the fact that he was one stinky mess (he had a case of diarrhea that resulted in an "accident" of the smelly kind, enroute to this Alley Cat Open House), we went for a drive to think on it. Like I said before, the rest is history.

This picture, with Ray showing his "trusting side" while Andre looks on from a distance makes me think of the present. Ray is still here, trusting us to look out for his best interests even after his original black buddy is gone but still very present in our hearts and memories.

My story does not end here but my window of time has closed and I must go put in a day's work. I will continue on with our Cat Saga - "Black is the New Black  - Part II" tomorrow.

To be continued...

Two Weeks

It has been two weeks, less a day since we laid our Senior Cat to rest. Two weeks...

I feel guilty for having a heart that healed so quickly.

I still have flashes of where I used to find our senior kitty waiting for me each and every morning. However the reminders of his twice-a-day medication are slipping by.

I love that an extreme close up of his adorable smiling kitty face flashes before me each and every time my cell phone comes to life. The ache in my heart from not seeing that loving little creature in the flesh is starting to wane.

I am so grateful we have our Back Up Cat to help fill the void. I doubt I will ever stop contrasting and comparing who he is, in comparison to who we lost. At the same time, I am wondering when and if we should think about adding a new Junior Pet into our family.

I walked around "the week after" with a quiet emptiness. It was a sad place but at the same time, it was such an honor to hold onto that ache because it kept my memories and feelings close to my heart.

Life has taken over this week and carried on.

I still miss our little black cat but I know his time on earth was so uncomfortable it was time to let him go.

I miss mourning him. That sad, soulful feeling and the quiet ache in my heart filled the void he left.

We will forever remember you, Andre. I miss missing you so much.

Little things are what I remember the most. "This" is the reason we invested in a cat fountain for our two black cats. Their love of running water is just one of many memories which I hope never die.

The Courage of a Lion

I feel like I have been living with a very quiet and low grade pain this week.

The first days "without Andre" were lackluster and I felt cloudy and overcast. Then Monday rudely walked in the door and intruded on my quiet, respectful mourning period. I hated Monday, but I knew I needed it just as much.

The loss of a pet is something not everyone understands. I must confess that as much as I empathized and wanted to understand how my friend felt when her 32 year old parrot died, I just didn't get it. I can relate to losing a cat or a dog but I've never loved a bird, so my heart didn't ache the same way as hers did. Andre was not doing well at the time and I could relate but I didn't truly understand.

Now I know. At least what it was like for me.

Other than "work", I did as little as humanly possible this week. I knew I had to do "hard things" but I didn't want to waste a good day of doing nothing, doing just a little bit, so all of those hard things landed on one day. That would be yesterday.

Our (previously) Junior Cat, presently our Only Cat needed to get his nails trimmed. His nails have needed a good trimming for quite some time now. I finally made that appointment and that appointment was last night.

I used that as a catalyst to gather up and donate Andre's unopened cans of cat food and drop off his medication so they could reuse or dispose of it properly. As I went through the process I washed up the cat dish we had upstairs, for Andre's healthy cat food pucks nuggets. I took the remainder of the cat food downstairs. I swept the kitchen floor and went in search of lost "hockey pucks" under the baseboard, kitchen furniture and the stove.

After Andre was gone, I left his dish filled with the much tastier and more popular cat food nuggets out of respect for Andre and not to make sudden changes for the sibling he left behind. But Junior continued to fish out the food (I assume) that was still of the health food variety and continued batting them around the kitchen, so I emptied the dish.

That empty dish was disturbing to me. It screamed "Andre is gone! Andre is gone!!" but I couldn't remove it.

I washed his dish and put it downstairs to use for another purpose on another day.

Slowly but surely our visual reminders of Andre's day-to-day life with us are disappearing.

Last night, we brought home the paw print the vet's office made for us on the day we said our good bye to Andre. The entire staff signed a card and it was attached to Andre's clay paw print. We didn't find that card until we were home from our night of errands, had finished our supper and I opened the package to find a place of honor for Andre's last memory.

"He was a courageous cat ..." was one of the many thoughtful and meaningful comments our veterinarian family wrote within the card.

Courageous.

Yes, I have to agree that was the sentence which packed a punch for me. I truly believe Andre breathed long and hard and those last heavy breaths were his final gift to us.

It was so very hard for him to breathe at the end. He gazed quietly into our eyes and he simply breathed.

It took every ounce of strength he had to live out those quiet last days. A lesser cat may have given up sooner or let it be known how much he was suffering. Not our Andre. He channeled his youthful exuberance for life into those final days, weeks and months.

He had the courage of a lion.

The High Cost of Loving

I sat still in the back yard yesterday and memories of Andre flooded my consciousness.

We had "cat proofed" our yard these past few years so he could come out with us and enjoy the great outdoors on his own terms, within the confines of our yard.

I remembered...

The (many) times he escaped our back yard when he was young and feisty.
The time he got "treed" by some crows (he climbed up into a tree and they were swooping down on him and quite disturbed by this black critter in their tree).
Snuggled up on the lawn swing, just enjoying the sun and whoever may have been around.
Hidden and camouflaged in the underbrush of our lilac bush.
Soaking up the sun. Right up until the end of his days.
I was suddenly grateful that he was given the gift of "one last spring" to unwrap with us.

I sat quietly with my thoughts and I revelled in how absolutely lucky I felt. I had no regrets.

Andre was adored. He was an integral part of our family and he made his way quietly throughout our days. Whether our house was full of kids, just our family or if we had company, he was a part of almost every memory I have.

We have so many pictures of our much adored little black kitty. I have written about him on many occasions. Heavens, he was even the theme of one of my Christmas letters ("Because Our Little Black Cat Scratched").

He was loved and he knew it. I am pretty sure he adored us as well because we certainly felt our human/cat relationship was a two way street.

That little guy made my heart swell. Day after day, year after year. I wish I could say I showed my love for my children in a manner that was as unmistakable as the way I openly loved our little black cat.

I have replayed his last years and days with us over and over in my mind.

I know we did all we could for him. I know without a doubt. Our efforts were supported and supplemented by our friendly neighborhood veterinarian's office. I have felt a bond grow with our vet family throughout these past few years.

In his final hours, it was such a gift to simply sit beside him and absorb "the essence of Andre".

He was such a cool cat. So calm. So life affirming. So loving. So adventuresome. He knew how to live the good life.

I replayed the years in my mind and I was so incredibly at peace, knowing that we did everything we could for him. We loved him, nurtured him, took care of him when he was sick and always had our door open for him during all of those years where he was so interested in the great big world beyond our own back yard.

No regrets.

I did everything I could do, throughout his entire life with us. I said all I had to say. I wrote. We took pictures and videos. We have stories and memories which will transcend time.

My heart is full of good, long lasting feelings of loving and being loved.

Loving so deeply comes at a cost. Hearts are broken, great loves are lost and you risk not feeling love in return.

It is a price I would pay any day of the week. The high cost of loving comes with the greatest reward. You just know you would not have done it any other way.

It was a privilege and an honor loving you, Andre. Thank you for opening not only my heart, but the hearts of our entire family. We wouldn't be the same without you.

This is a picture of the sun which set upon the day when we laid Andre to rest.
My son took this picture on our drive home, after burying Andre on his brother's farm.
I knew he took the picture, he showed it to me at the time.
What I didn't know, is where I would find that photo.
It is the last photo within a file of pictures he took of Andre.
It is titled "Rest in Peace".

Our lives have a hole which only you could fill, Andre. Thank you for filling it so fully while you lived here with us.

Life Without Andre

Monday feels like an assault to my senses this morning. I do not feel like jumping back into life as I knew it, like it was just any other day.

I know it is the only way. It is right and it is good.

I just miss my little black kitty. That's all.

His junior partner in cathood did his best version of snuggling up beside me before I crawled out of bed this morning. He even laid still while I petted him. In fact, he rolled over on his back so I could scratch his belly (I think he is part dog).

I'm still breathing in the cat hair he shed, but he helped me greet a day I didn't want to face.

Life goes on.

I have become so hermit-like lately I have forgotten what wonders lie outside of our doors.

I stepped in for a missing dance partner, at the dance studio where I used to take lessons, Friday night. Once I got over the shock and discomfort of being so far out of my element, I was amused and entertained by "people".

I am not too sure how long I've been wearing these blinders but I forgot how interesting it can be to meet up with new people.

It was hard. I couldn't wait to leave. But there were many moments of enjoyment while I stepped out of my comfortable life at home and into my most uncomfortable dance shoes.

I used to have so much fun while I was dancing that my feet didn't hurt until I took off my shoes and went home. Friday night, every single footfall hurt.

Every forward step hurt. It is so symbolic of how my heart, body and soul feel lately.

I do hope that this is part of a mourning process I have been walking through in the days, weeks and months when I realized our ailing senior cat's days were coming close to an end.

My heart is so tender right now. Perhaps that is why I don't enjoy facing the world outside of these protective walls of our home.

There is so much sadness, illness and loss out there. Inside our home, there have been so very many moments of pure joy and so much of that has been centered around our little cat family.

People are complicated. Cats are a tad bit mysterious too. It's just lately? I prefer the company of my little cat (and human) family over the great adventures that lie outside of these doors.

I guess I will have to peel back the layers and find my "inner Andre". My little black kitty, who could not wait to dash out of these doors to meet and greet the world around him, befriend enemies, make his way through the neighborhood and come home when he was good and ready, is a good role model.

I'm too scared to wander far. But maybe I should start gazing out the window and dreaming of some new adventures.

Maybe.

In Memory of Andre

He always liked going to the vet.

He got to go for a ride in the car, in his cat carrier once a year. Yet every single time he saw his little cat house he raced into it like a happy little pup. "Where are we going? Where are we going??" seemed to be written in his eyes.

Year after year. After at least fourteen years of trips to the vet, he still had that puppy dog fascination whenever he saw that carrier appear in the kitchen.

There was the emergency trip to the vet after he wrestled with a muskrat. We are sort of making that story up, yet assuming it actually happened, because he had cornered a muskrat by our neighbor's garage the day before. Though he came home from that particular incident unscathed, a day or two later he wandered home, looking a little worse for wear.

The last few years, he has seen our friendly, neighborhood vet more than a few times a year. Yet he still hopped into that cat carrier just like every other time before.

I think, over the course of time, he understood that a trip to the vet meant healing. Almost every time we went with an ailment, we came out with a way to help him feel better.

I like to think he understood that yesterday would be more of what he had come to know. He "knew" they could help him.

When I took him to the vet only three days prior, he was a model patient. He let down his guard and showed our vet all of his symptoms without pretense. I think he has been trying to be strong for his family but it was as if he "knew" his doctor could only help him if he showed her the truth.

He was at his worst for that short office visit. We got home and he was right back to our strong, brave cat.

It all went downhill from there.

Slowly.

Yesterday afternoon, in the hour(s) before his final appointment with our vet, I sat beside him as he rested quietly upon his cushions which my son had placed on "Andre's" chair. I watched and listened to him breathe. We made eye contact. We gazed into each other's eyes and spoke volumes without saying a word.

He barely even tried to purr, though there was a brief moment ...

It was time to get him ready to go.

I picked him up, ever so gently and carried him to his food and water dishes. "Do you want a drink? Anything to eat?"

His body language was very abrupt. I understood. "No"

I directed him over to the litter box. I wanted to ensure he was as comfortable as possible before we left. He desperately "needed a litter box" when we saw the vet on Wednesday. I wasn't going to repeat that mistake.

He needed a moment of privacy as he took me up on my second offer.

My son brought him and "his cushions" upstairs. He created a cozy little bed for Andre as he arranged the cushions inside of the pet carrier. He showed it to Andre. Andre turned around as if to say "No, but thanks" and wandered over to his food dish.

We sat and watched him eat. It did our hearts good to see him enjoying his food so much. It was so little but it was so big. 

We let him eat as long as he wanted to eat. It wasn't long. 

He still wasn't too keen on entering the cat carrier but with the help of a few Temptation treats, he gladly found his way into his cozy little oasis.

Once he settled in, he was completely at peace.

We arrived at the vet's office exactly at the time our appointment was arranged. There are some appointments where you do NOT want to arrive early. This was one of them.

He didn't want to come out of his carrier. So we took the lid off. He just laid on his cozy, familiar cushions in the bottom part of his cat carrier and he looked and sounded better than he had in a month. Maybe two.

He let me pet him. Over and over and over. He was so relaxed and at ease. 

His breathing was easy. So easy.

What did he know? Did he understand we were there to help him through this final hour? Did the antibiotics kick in at that precise moment? 

I asked if we could talk with the vet and she was happy to spend as much time as we needed. She answered all of my questions and concerns. I asked her if she could listen to his breathing again. Were we making a mistake??

It was the hardest decision in the world.

She explained that death due to respiratory illness is very distressing. It is not (usually) a quiet, falling asleep and not waking up kind of death. They struggle for breath and it is very hard for all concerned.

We had no idea if he was two hours, two days or two weeks from that moment. No one could know. No one but Andre knew exactly how he was feeling in that moment.

But the downward spiral he had been on this past week was indicative that his time was so very, very close.

We could choose to help him through this in a quiet, controlled and calm setting like the one we were sitting in right at that moment or we could take him back home with us and hope for another week.

The mere idea of having a medical emergency with him in the middle of a workday at home, with no way to get him help immediately was the deciding factor for me.

He was so absolutely calm. 

He didn't even try and purr. He just breathed deeply and quietly and with his whole body. He was so peaceful.

I think he understood he was exactly where he needed to be.

He "crossed over" without pain or any outward sign of anything but a complete and total acceptance and aura of peace.

It is the way I want to go.

Quickly, painlessly, without a struggle and surrounded in love with the whisper of "It's going to be okay" gently easing one out of a sick and tired body.

It's going to be okay, Andre.

We are heartbroken. There will be a void in this family only you could fill. Thank you for giving us fifteen good cat years.

Thank you for choosing us.

In Memory of Andre

He was dropped into our life when we least expected him,

He made a huge imprint within our hearts,

He shared his love with every critter he met,

And we count ourselves lucky

to be his Chosen Family

January (or February), 2000 - April 11, 2015

Good bye, our friend

May you breathe easy now ...

I Miss You Already

I lingered in bed a little bit longer than necessary this morning. I had hoped for one final wake up call from our ailing senior kitty.

It didn't happen.

Instead, as soon as I walked out into the hallway, I was greeted with this sight for sad eyes.

My son brought up his treasured "flower blanket" to make a softer bed for Andre, who has chosen to sleep on the floor beside the love seat lately.

This flower blanket and my son go back a long way. It was a quilt we already had when was born and he adopted it as his own somewhere along the way. Whenever we slept away from home, we packed up this quilt and it went where he went.

Sometime (not all that long ago), he donated his cherished blanket to his two favorite cats. It became the bed in a cardboard cat house he built for them. They have had as much enjoyment from that blanket as he has.

Oh, the stories that lie within that blanket.

Last night, he brought it upstairs to give Andre a softer resting spot. Before I went to bed, I could see Junior Cat eyeing up the cat blanket and Andre was more interested in his second favorite spot beside the table.

I wasn't surprised to find this scene when I awoke this morning. It is the way of our cats. 

My son fell asleep on the floor between the two of them last night. When he woke up, Andre had abandoned his post so my son forfeited his spot for a softer resting place on the couch.

He needed to sleep close to Andre last night and that is what he did.

Andre can barely tolerate being touched now. I am so glad I lapped up all the snuggling he had left in him for as long as it lasted.

Last weekend, I held him and we stared out the picture window of the living room and reminisced about his adventuresome days. This morning, a mere seven days later, he fought his way out of my arms and left me with three scratches as he fumbled his way to the floor. 

His last night with us.

My last (failed) attempt to hold him.

His labored purr.

His eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

That is all we have left now. It even seems painful for him to listen to our voice because he has always felt the need to respond to our words.

He used to meow a response. 

He has always had a loud, monster purr.

He has never failed to respond to our attempts to communicate with him.

My son said he just laid on the floor with his head beside Andre. Andre nuzzled and smelled his hair. Then gave his face one little lick. Just one.

This is the cat who used to spend an hour grooming His Boy. There was an attachment that transcended words between Andre and his human family.  He seemed to attach himself to each one of us at different times, in different ways. I don't know if he picked up on something we didn't even know about ourselves but I think each of us has had a feeling that we were "someone special" to him. 

As I laid on the floor beside my favored kitty this morning, I asked if he knew how special he was to us. I told him he doesn't have to keep breathing for us. It is okay. We know we were loved by him and I am certain he knows just how much he was loved and adored. It is okay, Andre. You can let go. It is okay ...

We are going to miss him more than words can say. 

I cannot imagine waking up to a world without him tomorrow morning. But we will. 

He is hurting too much. It hurts my heart to hear his purr because it costs him so very dearly to expend the energy it takes to do so. But he can't help himself.

It is as if he is saying, "I'm sorry I can't let you touch me right now, but let me leave you with the gift of my purr."

His purr. His monster purr.

It was the first thing about him that drew him into my heart. It got louder and more persistent as the years went on. 

Fifteen years.

Andre, I have known you almost as long as I've known my youngest son. You are such a big part of my heart and our family. I cannot imagine how hard it will be to let you go. 

Thank you for giving us all you have had to give.

Thank you for purring on.

Thank you for the love, the kitty kisses and the comfort of finding you upon my waking each and every morning (even if some of those mornings, you were on the doorstep waiting to be let in, during your wandering years).

Thank you for dropping into our lives.

You were a gift. 

I am beyond grateful for all of the smiles and laughter you brought into our days.

I cannot imagine waking up tomorrow morning. It hurts my heart to think of it. 

I always wished you had a "kitty cam" on the top of your forehead so I knew what adventures you found outside of our doors. Oh, how I wish I had those stories right now, Andre. You have led a very interesting life and have touched our family in a way we have not been touched before.

I'm going to miss you so very much. 

The Heart is Slow to Understand

I knew I had to see her. She was the one who walked with us at the beginning and she treated us like gold. I knew we were near the end of this road and I didn't want to walk down this path with anyone else.

Our family's beloved veterinarian returned from maternity leave a short while ago. I was over the moon to hear this, but deflated just as quickly when I found out her work schedule was the same as mine.

I seriously considered asking for time off so I could take our cat to see her. Seriously!

But yesterday, by some amazing string of coincidences, I ended up with only one daycare child for the majority of the day. I took advantage of the lull in the action and booked an appointment to see my most favorite vet.

We had to walk but that was okay. Andre has enjoyed riding in a stroller since he was a kitten. He even allowed the kids to put a bonnet on his head, sat back and let them buckle him in and off they rolled.

Older cat, bigger stroller. So off we went, minus the bonnet. He basked in the sun, relaxed and enjoyed the ride. 

It was all light and easy when we arrived. A cat in a stroller does tend to attract a little attention. I felt the need to explain this was our only mode of transportation (I wasn't really a crazy cat lady).

We settled into our room and before long, our vet came in to see us.

She didn't like what she heard and saw. Every single breath Andre took while he was in the vet's office was loud and labored and raspy. What she heard with her stethoscope was even more than that. His lungs are in bad shape. It takes great effort for him to breathe. He has lost a lot of weight in the past six months.

None of this was good news. None of it was a surprise to me either. I already knew pretty much everything she told me. I knew our days were numbered but I may have been in denial as to how big that number was.

She looked at me with kindly eyes that spoke volumes. She said very little but her eyes told me, "Any time now ... any time."

My eyes filled to overflowing with dampness and I couldn't speak. When I could utter a few words, I said, "My head knew this but apparently my heart hasn't figured it out yet."

All I knew for sure was "Not today ..." to which she responded of course it wouldn't be "today".

I was grasping. I knew it.

She offered to give him some antibiotic which would last for two weeks but at this point it would not be a solution. It is only a band aid.

I felt so very greedy when I said "Yes" to the antibiotic. I'm not ready. I need time.

I need to fill up on all things Andre and ensure he lives out the rest of his days filling up on whatever cat food he prefers to eat (she said at this point, the last thing she is worried about are is kidneys).

He had a gourmet feast of "Friskies" salmon pate last night. The tasty gold nugget cat food (which has been a hit in our cat population since day one) is in his food dish.

It did my heart good to see him gobble down his preferred food choice. Every quiet breath he takes, every purr he manages to muster, every snuggle and every time our eyes connect will be duly noted in these final days.

My head knows this. But my heart is aching with sorrow for the day which is not too far away.

Our Furry Black Felines

These furry felines make my heart sing.

If Junior Cat was a human, I think he would have aspirations on being a comedian. He loves the limelight and I am almost certain hearing his humans laughing is the equivalent of our pleasure at hearing him purr.

His antics amuse and entertain me. I look at him and smile. My heart swells when I hear him pad into a room. He can be as swift and as silent as a panther stalking his prey when he wants to be. But his default walk is one where you can hear his footfall.

His second career choice, if he was a biped, may be that of a future hockey star. His paw handling skills are second to none and he bats around anything that moves. He is swift and adept at this talent. Every time I find a small cache of Senior Cat's "health food pellets" hidden under baseboards or the back door mat or under the stove, fridge or any other immovable object, I wonder what his thought process is, as he "scores" another goal.

I love that he adores my Youngest Son. I often watch him love his human. He will often caress my son's face with his demonstrative tail. I have never ever known a cat who expressed such emotion with their tail. He has a flair for speaking very loudly with his tail. My son lavishes Junior with affection and I don't even think it is conscious. The admiration society is a mutual one.

Our Senior Cat has slowed down so very much. His playful days are long gone but I love that he still thinks it is a sport to dash out the front door when no one is looking. He still has that young, free wandering spirit at his core. He is pretty easy to catch these days. My biggest fear is that he may sneak out one day and no one will notice. Being locked outside on his own would not be an ideal situation.

I love gazing into his soft, expressive eyes. This morning he climbed onto my bed and poised himself face-to-face with me. We just spoke with our eyes. I think it hurts when I touch him. He seems to tolerate being petted but he does not lean into it.

He lets me pick him up and curls up into a small ball in my arms. This morning, we gazed out the living room window and I talked of old times. The time when he went out and hunted down a muskrat, the time when the crows hunted him down when he went to drink out of their puddle, the friends he made when he escaped out the front door and would not allow us to catch him.

Our little senior kitty has a book within him.

I think he has lived a pretty charmed life. I would love to hear his perspective. He loved making friends and when he prowled the neighborhood, I heard of at least one dog-friend he had. He is just that kind of guy. He is a lover, not a fighter.

As he soaked up the spring sunshine on a cool day, I couldn't help but want to snap as many pictures as I could.

Our days are numbered. I can hear it with every breath he takes. I see it in his eyes. I just hope he lets me know when he is hurting too much. I hope I can see it.

It is coming. My heart is already aching as I lose just a small piece of him slowly but surely these last days.

I'm grateful for almost fifteen years of knowing, loving, adoring and forever convincing our wandering little black kitty to stay home where he is safe and loved. 

I think his golden years have been easy ones. There is a lot of "life" within our home and he still chooses to join in and watch the action, even though he isn't a big part of it these days.

I see the evolution of Junior Cat since he moved in. It is as though Senior is grooming him for the day this "kingdom" will be his. He will rule this roost in his own unique way, but the essence of his predecessor will forever live on.

Purr on, my little black kitty. For as long as you are comfortable doing so. 

You are teaching me how precious every breath is. 

You have grown up with us and we have so very many memories.

I'm grateful for every little story, picture, video and remembrance I've saved along our way.

We never took you for granted, little one. 

Never. 

You know that, because you could hear us calling you when you were out and about roaming the neighborhood. 

You knew our door was always open.

You loved us and all those who wandered through our door. 

Even yet, you like to meet and greet our guests.

It makes me smile that you will rouse yourself from your deep afternoon slumber when you hear the deep voices of your older human siblings, when they drop by for a quick visit.

You are adored. I am pretty sure you know that.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.