Goodnight, Sweet Pinkie
The day before yesterday, the house woke up to find that Pinkie, our cat, wasn't moving her back legs. It seemed like the only thing she wanted to do was lie down. She'd stand if you forced her but she'd quickly rearrange herself into a curled up position. Then she missed her kitty litter box three times in a row. We babied her and worried that she might be feeling a little under the weather. What else would there be to expect, she was going to be eighteen on the first week of November.
The next day things were considerably worse. She wasn't able to move her limbs at all and by the time I got to her, her breathing was shallow and she wasn't blinking anymore. I found a ride from a friend, called my love and asked him to meet me at the animal hospital along with my mother. She made only one sound the entire drive to the hospital and the wait to see a doctor; a clear high yelp.
Her voice sounded in a way I hadn't heard since she was a kitten and hid under our dining room table trying desperately to figure out who the hell we were and where had we taken her and if she could trust the plate of food we kept offering her.
I picked her as my twelfth birthday present. My mother and my sister's father drove me to some woman's house who had advertised for free newborn kittens at the supermarket bulletin board. It was a dark day, slightly raining and I didn't really want to get out the car. The kittens were piled on top of each other playing next to the side of the house. I couldn't tell one from the other and I didn't want to pick. I was cold and wanted to go home. I started to walk back to the car when I head a soft meow behind me. There was one gray cat with a white belly, a white stripe on it's nose and bits of white on its paws, just as if she had dipped them in paint delicately. Her back paws were like white go-go boots. She meowed again and waved with her paws, so I slowly approached. When I squatted down, she curled into the space between my knees.
"Um, Mom... I think I was picked. This is the cat."
She began sleeping in bed with me, putting her head on my pillow, lying on her back with the blankets draped over her and her front paws hooked over the top blanket.
When I was thirteen I began breaking out in these terrible allergic welts. They'd make my arms swell to twice their size and I felt slowly roasted and lightly brushed by soft flowers dipped in itching powder at the same time. The Ear, Nose and Throat Doctors did every test they could think of to try and determine what the allergy was. For a while, I looked like a hard-core preteen heroin addict. Finally, it was discovered that aside from being allergic to every type of grass and a myriad of pollens, I had a big problem with pet dander. Particularly, long haired cat dander. My mother looked at me and said, "I think we need to get rid of the cat, Kisha."
"No. Please? I'll take whatever medicines they want me to, She won't sleep in bed with me under the covers anymore. I'll take shots. Please. please
Pinkie loved to play with these pink and blue yarn balls with a bell knitted in their stomach. She'd sleep with the ball when she wasn't sleeping with it. She figured out how to knock the Pounce carton of treats on the floor and bat just enough out to get a treat for herself; always four. She sat on her hind legs and gently tapped your legs when she wanted your attention. And when she really, really loved you she'd carefully groom your arm hair, though she inevitably looked at you with sympathy because your fur was far too thin.
As she aged her voice grew deep and husky, very Lauren Bacall. Periodically she would look at you and meow. It was a meow that me and my partner have decided is clearly saying, "I'm oooollllddd" completely deadpan.
When we arrived today at the Animal Hospital, she was rasping and fluid was everywhere. It was time. I looked down into her unfocused eyes and told her how much I loved her and that she had given more to this family than she'd ever known and that she deserved peace now. I kissed the top of her head, stroked her side and felt as the respiration slowed to a stop and felt her heart have that one last beat.
M. said he gave her a dream. I hope my beautiful cat is experiencing every second of it, right now.