Pussy Willow my little Princess

To my dearest little Pussy Willow Puff,


The naked ladies started blooming this week. 
They were blooming last year when you died.  Aug 9th, 2013

I was heartbroken and I still miss you, terribly! 
A year later and I still cry when I think about you and the tears are falling now as I write.  In a hours it will be one year that I held you and pet you for the last time, comforting you as your little kitty soul was packing up to leave your furry gray home here.  A huge part of me wishes you were still here, while the other part of me would not want you to still be here and be in pain or suffering. 


I try to not dwell on it but sometimes I question why.  Why did you have to go?  Can anyone make sense of death?  You were here one day and gone forever the next.  How, how can you just be gone?  Forever?  I think of that last night with you.  -Carrying you inside from the front porch and upstairs.  -Holding you, talking to you.  Remembering how I failed you in the early morning hours and I feel so guilty about that.  I’m so incredibly sorry Willow, I didn’t know, I didn’t realize you were dying.  It was stupid of me.  I should have sat with you and talked to you and comforted you sooner.  I just didn’t know.  I wish I could turn back time so I could have been there for you earlier.


Although you are gone, your little paws left permanent impressions across my heart.
The corner of the bathroom cabinet stays a stark white now that you’re gone.  You were always rubbing along the corner of that cabinet and I had to wash it all the time.  What I wouldn’t give to have to wash that corner again.  But the memories will just have to do.


I miss hearing you talk to me.
Early in the morning as I was still trying to get the blur out of my eyes you would follow me everywhere, talking the whole time!  Who would have imagined a tiny little cat could have so much to say?  Especially so early in the day!  I really miss that, your constant little meowing.  When I grumbled about you being “a morning person” I still thought it was adorable (albeit a bit annoying at times).  Mornings are not at all the same without you.


We got you as a little kitten and you were always so cute and sweet.

You could be zipping around the house, but as soon as I picked you up, you would go limp as if to say “Ok you can hold me now.”  When I held you, your little front paws would cross, like a little princess.  Yes, you became the little princess too.  Even your coat was special.  You were always soft as a bunny.  It was quite a challenge bathing you, because of that extra downy like under coat of fur you had – seemed I could never get it wet.


Most cats go crazy with the laser lights too, but not you. 
It was as if it was beneath you.  Even when the other cats chased it, you were not interested in the least.  When we tried to get you to play, you would just sit there looking up at the laser pen, and then at us as if to say “who do you think you’re trying to fool?”


I miss the eye contact too.
You didn’t just look at me; you looked me in the eye and you would hold that gaze.  It was like that with everyone.  Even company commented about your “stare.”  I miss our customary greetings too.  I’d walk into the bedroom and you’d be standing on the side of the bed, I’d bend my head down and you would rub your head on my forehead along the side of my face and jawbone.  We greet each other that way since you were a tiny kitten, for eleven years Willow.


I miss singing to you
– from the Cocoa Puff commercial “Puff puff, Willow Puff! Crazy little Willow Puff. Soft and gray and fuzzy.  Wahooo, I’m cuckoo for Willow Puff.”  And I miss singing with you “Little Pussy Willow had a fly upon her nose [you’d meow], little Pussy Willow had a fly upon her nose [meow] little Pussy Willow had a fly upon her noooooooose [meow] and she flicked it and it flew away.”


You always had the most incredibly loud purring.
It was like a tiny little engine roaring.  Often I’d wake up during the night and I could hear you purring – laying over at the edge of the bed.  It was just so loud and sometimes it was difficult falling asleep sometimes because it was so loud (and you often slept near my shoulders) but I couldn’t really get annoyed about you being that happy.

You were my little comforter too. 
In 2009 when we lost our little flower bud and I was overwhelmed with grief, sometimes I would just sit on the steps of the deck.  I didn’t want to do anything - just sit.  You would crawl into my lap and let me pet you and hold you as I cried.  You didn’t seem to mind the tears falling into your soft gray fur.
Around November of 2012 I hit a really dark spot for a little while.

     I was so afraid of not hearing back from Nathan.  So afraid that he would be like his original father, that he would be content with life as he knew it and not want contact.  I was really struggling with the idea of trying to go on without him in my life.  It was hard enough surviving this long and I just could not comprehend continuing to go on for countless more years with the silence.


     Mr Cheerio needs more sleep than I do and so by the time I went to bed that night he was already asleep.  I was emotionally exhausted but sleep was far away as I lay there on my back and the tears just kept rolling.  I was having a lot of thoughts about death and dying.


     I will never forget that night, Willow. 
     It is like a movie that replays in my mind.  I see it clearly.
     You always slept at the edge of the bed, but that night as I lay there crying, you slowly walked up beside me.  You very slowly put one paw up on me, then another and another until you we standing on me.  You very slowly walked up and sat on my chest. You never did this before.  The whole time you were looking into my eyes, even as you sat there.  I started to pet you and eventually stopped crying.  You lay down and started to purr. 


It was as if God knew how much I needed comfort,
 and He sent you, this cute little gray cat, to help me.  From that point on for the next nine months every single night (except for the last) you would curl up on my chest.  I pet you and you purred.  You stayed there purring until I fell asleep – every night.
 
Every
Night


Once I fell asleep
you’d leave that spot often moving to the corner of my pillow.  When I woke up through the night, I’d hear you purring on my pillow and I’d pet you until I fell back to sleep. I think this solidified our bond, Puff Girl. 


After your little kitty soul departed, it was too quiet everywhere! 
The silence was deafening.  Like a vacant house, every sound echoed the emptiness.  The other cats don’t meow like you did.  They make these strange little meeps and murps and sounds in their throat, but not actual meows.  But the hardest part was getting to sleep at night. 


Not only could I no longer hear you purring,
but the little purring vibrations were obviously gone too.  I couldn’t even sleep in that room – “Willow World” we called it.  I would just cry walking into the room.  When I did finally fall asleep, I’d wake up realizing I was petting the corner of my pillow, where you used to sleep.  I finally retreated to the guest room for several months, just so I could get some sleep.

I lost you in August,
     our little flower bud in September,
          and Nathan’s birthday in October. 
I was worried about facing another birthday and holiday season without you.  You were my comforter in very dark and heavy times, what would I do if I hit another dark period since you’re gone?  I was actually concerned about that. 


For Nathan’s 19th birthday last October
we sent a gift directly to him at college and we sent his Christmas gift early – so he would have snacks to munch on while studying for finals.  In the packet of pictures I sent, there were pictures of you too. I wish he had gotten to meet you and you him.  I also wish you were here to share the joy with us my Little Princess, when he actually sent us a snail mail letter in January of this year.  We have mailed a few letters back and forth.  So, I think the darkest part of the silence may be gone and I should be okay to face the upcoming fall season of losses and holidays to endure.


As the one year anniversary is getting closer, I still miss you. 
I wish I could hold you again.  You were a best friend and I will always miss you my dearest little Pussy Willow.

My hope is that I can make a meaningful difference in people’s lives that when my time is up, maybe someone will miss me just a fraction as much as I miss you.

my dearest

little

pussy willow puff

princess

five years ago

Not really expecting any replies ...

I have been struggling a lot with depression lately.
Last Friday I was just so glum, even the forced smile was obviously fake.

I can't write about it now, but I lost my "little princess" my sweet little Pussy Willow early August.




Pussy Willow kitten n Cheerio

Not able to fall asleep or sleeping well.
I haven't even been sleeping in my own bedroom -- which has been "Willow World" for the past several years.  That was her room, her territory, her domain.  So going in there to sleep just isn't possible.

I think the sadness is combined with that event 5 years ago.  I didn't even tell my hubby when it was the anniversary - I just cried myself to sleep. 

Monday I called a friend and she let me talk about it.  Tuesday I was in a much much better place.

anyway, not an exciting post ... just reflecting, I guess

five

years

ago

Heavy Eyelids and Sweet Tired Little Eyes

Saturday after a hard day's work of gathering and loading up trucks of firewood, I finally agreed to let him see if he could catch two kittens from the feral cats on his property. I was hungry and I was tired. I agreed because I didn't think he'd be able to lure them into a carrier in a reasonable amount of time. I completely underestimated his skill, because in no time he had both kittens in a carrier and we were loading them into the cab of my truck. As I drove home, I was surprised that they were quiet - not a single meow. Allthewhile, I was thinking, "O great. Now what?" I've been to his place a bunch of times before. The last time or two that I've been there, I enjoyed watching the new batch(es) of kittens. There was an assortment of little furr balls, including two yellow kittens. He described one of the yellow ones as "very friendly." He pointed to the little Cutie I'd been watching, and mentioned it is also very friendly and they are probably litter mates. The little Cutie didn't bolt at first sight of me. I could get closer to it than the other cats; although, it would dash away at just the last moment. I'm sure this little Cutie's had my attention because the color pattern reminded me so very much of our Monster Paws. I felt mezmorized when it would look me in eye and hold that gaze. Since these were outdoor -(not really wild - but not tame either) cats, I didn't want to mix with our indoor Pussy Willow, at least not until the kittens are checked out by a vet. It was already quite apparent they had fleas! So, when I got home, I pulled my convertible out of the garage, and turned it into a temporary home for the kittens. They were both still quiet, but neither one came out of the carrier. They would allow me to reach in to pet them, nevertheless they would not come out so I left the carrier doors open and left them in the garage for the night. That was Saturday night. Sunday morning, they were both of of their carriers and hiding near a shelf. I should have left them alone so they wouldn't look for another hiding place. Alas, hindsight is always 20/20. Near the shelf they were fairly easy to see and get to. But their new hiding place became the lawn mower in the corner. By Sunday night, the little yellow cat came out.

"Very Friendly" ha! that doesn't begin to describe it! This kitten was purring and kneading his little feet like there'd be no tomorrow. He would rub my arms and wanted sooo badly to be petted. It seemed he could not get enough petting. In fact, he wasn't even interested in eating! It is now Wednesday and little Cutie still won't come out from under the lawn mower while I'm there. It is akward every time I pet Cutie. Morning and afternoons I go in and get on hands and knees. I lean my face to the floor and peer under the lawn mower & sure enough there is a kitten under there - Still. What a weird thing to reach under the lawn mower to pet a kitten. She's not afraid when she's in her own space, she rubs against my hand, walks all around my hand and rubs along my arm. She'll even lay across my arm or in my open hand. But she is just not intersted yet in coming out from under that lawn mower! This morning I noticed that one of the whiskers of the yellow kitten was short, like it was cut. Then as he sat in my lap, I noticed several of them look shortened. I wonder, is he soo uber full of love that he's shaved his own whiskers off by rubbing agains the lawn mower blades too hard? What a funny cute little cat. I've been calling him Tommy, because that is what my Grandmother named a stuffed yellow cat I got for her when she was sick. It may not be an creative name, but I'm pretty sure it's a boyo. The other one, I'm not sure yet. It's hard to tell with the lawn mower in the way. Tommy Tom Tom got all comfy cozy this morning when as I sat in the garage to read. He rubbed all over my arms, along my feet, crawl up in my lap. Very friendly - Very cute. After awhile I realized that he was still, and I hoped he didn't fall asleep. I would have hated waking him up, but it was definately time for me to get ready for work. So I shuffled a little and he leans his head waaaaaaay back and looked up at me. His eyes were barely open and it was the sweetest thing as he just stared at me through those sleepy eyes, sort of watching me as he was falling back to sleep. I was aware of the emotions that it evoked inside of me. I felt like this little kitten was just so precious and sweet and beautiful. Like I wanted to protect him and take care of him, and cuddle him and make him feel loved. And I wondered to myself, if that is what it would have been like had if I not lost our wee one last year? If she had joined us, is that how I would have felt looking down at her in the crook of my arm while she was falling asleep? What color would her eyes have been as she would have looked up at me through those tired and sleepy eyes while falling contently and peacefully to sleep.

sweet tired little eyes

A dream, with fur, fear, and tears

I am a cat nap kind of person. In the summer I’ll often go out to my car on my lunch break and take a cat nap. I'll usually wake up in about 20 minutes without setting an alarm. Those 20 minutes will give me an extra boost for several hours. Today I fell asleep and woke up clearly remembering the details of a dream. In my dream I was outside with my friend, Linda. We became very good friends when I was in high school. Back then I was a big horse lover. I was always reading horse books, wrote short stories about horses, and often paged through my horse encyclopedia learning everything about them, about the breeds, their anatomy, and best practices on how to care for them. I greatly enjoyed the Horse Illustrated magazine. I love the dish shaped face of the Arabian, and their slender features. I appreciated the stamina and strength of the Morgan, and the quickness of the Quarter Horse. In my dream we were outside near the horses. We were at the inside angel of a corner. The electric fence wire was in front and beside us. Linda was reaching over the fence petting one horse. There was a second horse at the other fence, it was a dark color. Since it was cool out I had my hood up. This eliminated my peripheral vision and reduced my hearing. Whenever I would turn my back on this horse to face Linda, I was filled with a fear of it. I was constantly turning my head to look back at it, afraid that it was going to charge or attack me. Each time I turned toward my friend Linda, a great wariness would boil up in me. I kept thinking I heard footsteps coming toward me. But each time I would turn and look, the other horse was behind the fence where it should be. Suddenly in my dream Pokey was there. Pokey was a pony I acquired when I was in 7th or 8th grade. We were a poor family growing up. My Mom labored hard as a single mom in a blue collar job. This was back when men resented women working a “man’s job.” When she worked in the steel mill, the men would often comment to her that she should not be there – she was taking a man’s job, and she should be home making cookies. Granted, my mom was good at making cookies. But if our father had been a real man and had taken care of his family at the time, my Mom might have been able to stay home making cookies. She might have even preferred to be home. But the reality of it was that she didn’t have the chance to be a housewife, she was a laborer instead. My mom also worked at a glass factory. One of her co-workers found out about a pony that was being abused and neglected. They knew I was a horse lover and asked my Mom if we’d want to take this pony, for free. Of course, she knew right away what my answer would be. Now, mind you, he was a pony – not a horse. He was a typical adorable little pony. He was brownish with dapple white spots. He was just the cutest thing when he got his very fuzzy winter coat. He had alert bright eyes and a white main and tail. His back was not much higher than my own waist. We brought this pony to the house my Mom was renting. It had a half dilapidated two car garage. We only had one car, so we converted the other side into a ‘barn’ for the pony. I poured all my love and attention on Pokey. It was a bizarre sight to see me ride this pony. I was thin and weighed almost nothing, but I was not short. If I rode in the snow and let my feet hang, there would be the expected hoof tracks in the snow with other mysterious tracks outside those. Those two mysterious trails were where my toes dragged. It was not a charming site at all. But that didn’t matter! He was able to carry my weight without any trouble. We moved twice after we got Pokey. One time my Mom moved without me. I waited until someone could come with a trailer to get Pokey, and then I moved with him. It worked out nicely that a man who was involved with 4-H allowed me to keep Pokey in his barn without charge. In return I helped muck the stalls and went with them to get grain and sawdust. I’m very thankful to him, because we could not have afforded to pay for boarding. The barn was about 2 miles or so from our new house. I would walk there and back every day to care for him. Feed him, brush him, keep his stall (and stall of other animals) clean. Now that we were living in a more rural countryside, there were a lot of fields. I was able to ride to my hearts content. One year I was going on a trip with the school, and we had a fund raising event in a nearby store parking lot. They had a bake sale and car wash going on. Someone allowed me to borrow a saddle and I hosted pony rides. So Pokey helped me raise money for my first trip to Texas. When we moved from there, our new place was a few doors down from a small farmstead. He’d sold off most of his land years before, but kept some for a few head of steer. He allowed me to keep Pokey in his barn at a very small fee. I wanted to go to a private school, so I got a job. I worked the in the dining room and doing dishes at a nursing home a few nights a week to pay the tuition and uniform costs. In the summer I also worked during the day. Some years I worked at a local swimming pool, another year I worked in office at the Military School in town. This meant I had less time to spend with Pokey during the school year, but we made up for it in the summer. With all the hoorays of High School Graduation dies down, it meant a new chapter in life. Turning the page meant going away to school. I found a very small Bible College on the other side of the state. I was at a dilemma. What about Pokey? I had gotten to know the Spanish teacher at the private school. Her husband loved horses, and even had a few. They had three young children. My teacher’s name was Linda, and I gave Pokey to her and the family. The very last day I walked up to the barn to feed Pokey, I took a tape recorder along. I still have the recording on a cassette tape of that last whinnied greeting. It brings tears to my eyes even now to think about it. He wasn’t just a pony. He’d come to mean so much more to me. He was my best friend through the years, and through all the moves we’d made when I was a teen. I loved him and he was so special to me. Oh, how hard it was to say goodbye to him! That was many years ago. Linda's family loved on Pokey and took good care of him for the remainder of his life. So, there in my dream was Linda and Pokey. After Pokey suddenly appeared, he was behind me and nudged me in the back with his nose. But it was not a normal little nudge, but it was a superhero kind of nudge. It threw me and I went flying up, high into the air. As I was flying up, the fear of heights gripped me as I was higher than the trees. I despise the falling sensation, and this was what I was feeling next. As I was feeling those fears and sensations, I saw that Pokey was not standing on the ground. He was right high in the air right behind me. So, I could not get mad at him for throwing me up there, because we were in it together. And I said to him, “well, at least you’ll fall with me.” I remember the falling sensation in my dream. I don’t remember landing. But next in my dream I was on the ground. I was sitting back on my heels and my upper body was doubled over nearly touching the ground. My arms were bent and pulled in tight to my sides. My hands were gripping something above my head, which was down on the ground. In my dream, I was crying. It was not a little cry, but it was a broken cry that came from deep within. It was one of those cries that your whole body is tense and the only words to be heard are are little squeaks that make it over the much tightened vocal cords. I was crying and talking about my Monster Paws, and him being gone. When I woke up from my dream, the details were just so vivid. When pondering it, I realized the significance of Pokey being there. I have not thought about Pokey for awhile. But I guess losing Monster subconsciously took me to the room where my Pokey memories and feelings are. Pokey and everything about him is cherished, preserved, and stored there. And I think that is the same place that all the Monster Paws memories will be stored, preserved, and cherished.

o that’s my dream, with Fur Fear and Tears

a witness?

Have you ever witnessed someone or something die? Until yesterday morning (with the exception of plant life), I have not. In 2001, I spent a lot of time with my sister at our Grammy’s house during her last days. They did not expect her to be with us 2 months, but she decided to hang on that long. I remember coming home from work and preparing to go to Grammy’s house. I called my sister to see if she wanted me to pick anything up on my way over. She gave me a short list. A few moments later she called me to let me know our Grammy was gone. I headed right over to the house, the list completely irrelevant now. My sister was worried how I would handle it if I had been there at the very end. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if I had been alone, but I don’t really know what I would have done had I been there with them at the time. There were some people who told me to put Monster Paws down, that it was “the right thing to do.” That last night as he struggled, I wondered if that’s what I should do? I second-guessed myself and wondered if I was just being cruel to him? The truth is that there is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in the decision. It ripped my heart out watching him. It was very hard on me, but what about him? If I were to drag his tiny frame to a vet, he would sense it. Why distress him? Why drag him to a sterile office for his last memories? Yet even on that last night he, he was aware. He was very aware of us, his surroundings, and what he wanted. He would still purr when we pet him. I carried him upstairs that night. At one point he must’ve made his way into the bedroom as I noticed he was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. He’d spent most of his days up in that room since we lived here. At that moment though, he looked content. The next morning Hubby was kind enough to let me sleep in. When I made my way downstairs, Monster was laying on the carpet all stretched out, with the water bowl next to him. He did not lift his head when I came in the room. It was evident that his time was very close. It was very hard watching him and mentally prepare for the rest of the day at the same time. It was our Christmas get together with family that afternoon. I sat on the couch and cried for a long time. I finally got up and pulled out the ingredients to make a cheesecake for our gathering in a few hours. I was out of a key ingredient, and asked George to run to the store to pick some up as I got everything else ready. He had his coat on and was headed toward the door, but my heart stopped when he paused to pet Monster. I suggested he stay home instead. So he took off his coat and sat beside Monster. I grabbed a box of tissues and sat on the other side of him. He was never a lap cat, so we just sat there with him. Petting him softly, comforting him. I kept talking to him, assuring him we were there and that it was ok. All morning his breathing was shallow. We’d have to look very close to see if he was still breathing. But at that point he wasn’t really breathing, there were a few gasps with pauses between each. I’d wonder if he was gone, and then his whiskers twitched. His front legs moved. After a few moments his back legs moved too, but I think he was already gone and it was just the muscles. So the precise moment of when he was gone, I don’t know. His coat was still shiny and soft. His eyes were wide open. I kept stroking his head and the tears rolled down my face and I looked at the empty shell of my little “Spuddy Wuddy”. Then came the decision of what to do next? I found myself feeling like it was Dejvue as I went up to my craft room looking for a box. Wasn’t I doing this just a few months ago? Only this time I needed a much bigger box. I came downstairs with two medium size boxes. The smaller of the two was a decorative storage box. It was sturdier, so we decided to try that one first. I put in the blanket I had used to carry him outside just two days before. Hubby and I moved him together. I didn’t think the box was big enough, but I could tell Hubby thought he fit okay. To me though, Monster just didn’t look comfortable. Yes, I know he was already gone but that was not the point. Since he was already lying in the blanket, we were able to easily move him to the bigger box, then he looked comfortable. It kept taking me back to September when we lost the baby. Unlike Monster Paws, we didn’t get to see or hold the baby, nor do we have memories of or even with the baby; we only had futile hopes and dreams. But as we did in September, we’ll again have to decide on a final resting spot. Saying ‘Goodbye’ to Monster has been difficult in another way. You see, I had Monster for about a year when I got pregnant the first time. So Monster Paws was there during my pregnancy, and he was there when I lost my son to adoption. He was there that first Christmas Season when my son was gone and my heart was broken -- when I couldn’t sleep at night and cried most of the time. He was there for all the years to follow with each Mother’s Day when I looked in the mirror and hated myself. He was there for all the birthdays as I searched until I found just the right gift for my son. He was there to ‘help’ me wrap the gifts that I’d send. In a bizarre sort of way, Monster Paws is connected to my adoption story. And,well, losing him, feels like I’ve lost another piece of my son.

losing him

There has been a lot going on since July of last year. Some has been good, but it seems there have been more that I'd classify as 'difficult.' November was very hard for me this year as we were approaching the Thanksgiving season. I think the loss of the baby combined with my son's 15th birthday just a month later both weighed very heavily. I really did no look forward to the Holiday at all, because Holidays are supposed to be about celebrating. Personally, I was not celebrating. I was sad and grieving. I was trying to survive. Dont' get me wrong, I did enjoy the time my nephews came to visit around the Holiday. The night before Thanksgiving one nephew rode with me to the garage to drop off the truck and pick up the car. On our drive back home, there was a poor lonely Christmas tree laying along the highway in the rain. I figured it fell off a truck on its way to the city. We turned around and 'rescued' it. The rest of the drive back home we sang,"Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Treeeeee, we found you on the hiiiighwaaaayyyy!!!!" I leven lucked out by having all three of them sleep over one night. We all got up and decorated the tree in the morning before Hubby got out of bed. So there were fun times. But then there were the results of the xrays for the "old man" of the house, Monster Paws. The vet gave him 3-6 months. I classify that as some of the 'difficult' times. At first, it seemed the pills we got from the vet were helping because Monster did start eating again. Monster Paws, what a funny guy he's been. He's one of those social cats. He loved it when we'd have a party with a house fool of people. He loved coming out to greet and meet the company. He was EXTREMELY bad as a kitten, well for the first 8 years he was bad. Almost like a kid in that he'd do stuff just to be yelled at. He'd sit on the banister at the end of the hallway waiting for you to look at him, and when you did, he'd knock something over the side. We did not allow him on the table or counters. Every now and then we'd catch him up there, again waiting to make eye contact, then whap he'd push something off. He loved to run. When I moved from my efficiency apartment to our new house years ago, he had a ball. He loved running up and down the steps. More than that he wanted to be chased from the living room, through the dining room, up the stairs, down the hall, into the far bedroom, and back out into the hallway, down the steps, into the kitchen. Sometimes if I'd stop while chasing him, he'd gladly turn around and start chasing me ... up the stairs, down the hall, up on the bed, and down the hall agian. When he was about 9 we got him a kitten, so he'd have someone to play with. Surprising to us that cats don't like to play the same. The kitten, Pussy Willow, liked to wrestle with bunny kicks and full nelson headlocks. She wasn't interested in chasing Monster. If he would try to chase her, she would fall over to wrestle him. After awhile Monster figured it out and would wrestle with her until he'd make her mad enough that she would chase after him. Monster also loved being pushed around. If he was laying on a vinyl or hardwood floor, just give him a good push so he would slide across the floor. He thought it was great. He also enjoyed laundry basket rides. Pussy Willow has no appreciation for either game. Monster knew how to bend the rules too. At our former house he knew he was allowed on the back porch and on the outside steps, but that was the limit, he was not allowed out in the yard. Well one year he found a way to cheat. I stood at the door to see him tip toe off the steps. But he was not in the yard, no, he was tip toeing along the edge of bricks I had turned on their side to border the flower bed beside the steps. He was right, he wasn't technically in the yard. So, Monster Paws has been a fun cat with lots of personality who made everyone laugh alot. I got him when he was a kitten, shortly after moved into my first apartment. A lady I worked with at the time refused to get her cats fixed, and every year she would take a litter to the Humane Society. That particular litter she brought into work in the morning, and was going to drop off the kittens on her way back home. So I had this box of kittens at my desk mot of the day. There one that was just really adorable, but it didn't have a playful attitude like the black and tan tabby that wasn't as cute. I finally decided that I liked the spunky kitten best, even though he wasn't the cutest, and I took him home that day. In February 2010, he would be 18 years old. The pills we got from the vet, worked at first. But it got to a point where Monster is just weak and not well, and it just didn't make sense to me to be shoving pills down his throat anymore. Especially when he'd fall over when I'd try to give him a pill. Around Christas when he nearly stopped eating, I felt so incredibly guilty. I felt like I was starving him to death. But I talked w/ my sister from NJ, and she pointed out that his system is probably shutting down and that's not why he isn't eating - not that I'm starving him. So far he seems to just lay in front of the coal stove or sleep in the video rocker. Most of the times when we pet him, he purrs. I carried him outside yesterday and walked around the deck while holding him, and he was purring. I could mis-reading it, but his purring makes me feel like he's content and at least he's enjoying something in life still. He laid by the door yesterday wanting out, so I left him out. When he'd stop and lie down, I'd cover him with a small blanket. One of his trips outside he wobbled right down the steps off the deck. He started down the path (that I didn't get done because of the weather and me getting sick and now the ground is frozen) alongside the deck to the front of the house. He went to a flower bed and just sat there in the dark mulch. He looked so happy, that I grabbed my camera to get a picture. He is not indicating he's in pain. If he were in pain, we would not allow him to suffer. But if he's content to just fade away here at home and isn't suffering, that's what I want to allow him to do. That doesn't mean it's easy. It's hard, not just for me, but for my Hubby too. After all we were dating when I got Monster Paws. It really is his cat too. In fact I think Monster was more his cat than mine from the beginning. Tonight however; Monster seems restless. He isn't just curling up and going to sleep. He's moving from place to place. His back legs aren't cooperating, and he can't keep his balance. I've cried a lot tonight, because I know the time isn't far away. But how long is that, exactly. It is hard watching him struggle. He was a 17 lb cat at one time. Now he's so skinny. I don't want him to suffer, but I don't really want him to die either - I don't want to lose him. Yet, I know it will happen... it must happen. We're hoping he'll drift peacefully away in his sleep. I'll miss you Monster Paws. ***11:30am 1/9/2010 - The struggle is over, he's gone. ***