30 March 2010

SAYING GOODBYE TO AN OLD FRIEND





I was living in La Jolla, CA, when I turned 18. Shortly after my birthday, I was walking home from work when I heard the distressed cries of a kitten. I tracked the sounds to a Dumpster™, and discovered the terrified kitten inside. The collection truck was down the street, so I knew I had to get the kitten out quickly; luckily, she wasn’t too far in, and I was able to scoop her out without getting too yucky myself.

It was clear she was not well. Her fur was greasy and matted, her eyes and nostrils caked with mucus from an upper respiratory infection, and infested with fleas. She had a few scrapes and worn down claws from trying to dig out of the trash bin. I wrapped her up in my jacket and took her home, where I gave her a bath to rid her of the fleas and gunk; turned out that she was a shorthaired dark tortoiseshell variety, not all of the dirt-coloring was dirt!

I took her to the vet, where it was determined that she did not have worms or any major disease, and she was given her first shots and medication for the respiratory infection. She was determined to be 6 weeks old, and was dubbed Miss Kitty.

Miss Kitty was much better very quickly, and I was very happy to have her company. When my mom visited me that Thanksgiving, MK loved to go out on her harness and leash and be walked to the beach, where she loved being dragged in the sand, watching animals in the tide pools, and snoozing in the sun in the grass.

From the beginning, MK was a chatty cat. She loved to comment on things going on around her, and loved chatting with people, having a conversation about nothing in particular. When I moved back to Denver a few months later, Miss Kitty flew back with me in a carrier under my seat; the whole way, even though she was mildly sedated, she talked about everything.

Upon returning to Denver, and moving back in with my mother, MK decided that Mom was her person, not me. All of you who have cats know what I mean; even though I had rescued her, and raised her, once MK was living in Mom’s house, she was Mom’s cat. And so she remained.

I went to college, got married, got divorced, and moved to Phoenix. Mom followed a few years later, driving herself and her cats down in a minivan while her friends drove her stuff in a U-Haul™. She said that MK kept her company by chatting with her, MK commenting on things she saw or heard, or responding to Mom. Yes, my mother is The Crazy Cat Lady.

Miss Kitty’s name had morphed over time with Mom, and she was called Teeters now. And Teeters loved to talk on the phone. Anytime I called Mom, Teeters had to talk too. I’d ask her questions, and she would respond with different meows and chirps, and it really seemed like she was talking with me. One time, I was visiting with Mom and her cell phone was on the table; Teeters was sitting next to it, and when I spoke to Teeters, she leaned over and meowed into the phone!

Teeters loved to sit in the cabinet over the fridge and sing to herself at night. It was her own private opera house, and if she realized you were listening, she would stop. She loved to lie in the sun in the yard, toasting her big belly. She never really seemed interested in chasing lizards or birds; she just wanted to be out in the air and sunshine.

Over the past couple of years, Teeters has become thinner and thinner. She went from dry kibble to wet food as her teeth aged along with the rest of her body. She was still able to get up and down off the counter for her food, and above the fridge to her Singing Closet. Always, she chattered away to anyone who would listen.

A few days ago, Teeters and I had a conversation on the phone. I told her that I loved her, but that it was okay if she wanted to go, she didn’t have to stay her for Mom and me. I asked her if she was happy, and she meowed her “yes”. I asked her if she loved me, and she meowed warmly back.

Yesterday morning, Teeters began her process of crossing the Rainbow Bridge. She is comfortable, on a bed of pillows and covered in blankets. She has a guardian, Red, who is keeping her company by sitting near her.

She has had such an interesting life in her 19 ½ years; she lived in three states, flew on a plane, drove state to state in a minivan, helped raise foster kittens, and generally made life fun and funny for Mom and me. I will miss talking with Teeters on the phone.

I wonder if they accept collect calls on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge?