Farewell my Darling Friend
This week has been rather difficult. On Tuesday we had to let our Tortoiseshell cat go. She had mouth cancer, something she'd developed very rapidly and the cancer seemed to have been spreading to other places, as she had a lump on her stomach. There was no way to save her and so we had to have her put to sleep.
It's hard to think of it and both of us were crying our eyes out because it seemed so unfair and so cruel.
Dita was a real character, the only cat I've ever met who seemed to have comic timing. She was a chatty, almost insolent character who would happily answer back to things you said, usually when she was hungry but it wasn't time for more food. She loved her fuss and had a fondness for junk food, which makes me think that when she was a stray she'd found a chippie and taken to raiding the bins. When we met her she didn't bother to get up out of her bed and just lay in her pen letting us fuss her. This insouciance towards life characterised must of her nature, we were never allowed to see her play and you'd only hear the sound of her paffing toys around in the next room. If and when either of us tried to look in and watch, we'd find a chunky tortie sitting there looking for all the world as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. 'Me, play? Oh no, you've confused me with that other cat you have'.
Her relationship with Hobbes was strange, one moment they'd tolerate each other and the next he'd be trying to beat her up. I think he wanted to play, but she wasn't interested and would make that plain, usually rather loudly. They never played together, though sometimes she'd play a strange sort of 'minesweeper' where she poked at him through the cover until he emerged. I always felt so blessed if they snuggled up together and had a nap because it was always my hope that they would learn to love each other like siblings. Alas, it never happened. I don't know if he always saw her as an invader or if he just wanted to play, usually boisterously, and she didn't want to know. It was a shame for both of them because it meant their relationship was always pretty fraught and they never go what they wanted.
She was a lovely animal, one who loved having a tummy rub and would often stretch out more in her sleep if you stroked her belly. She also loved her head being fussed and would sometimes just rub against your hand to make it smell of her. I remember one time, the only time when she sat diligently rubbing against my hand and then knocked it down and proceeded to use me as a pillow. It was so sweet and really made me feel as if she loved and trusted me. I hope I repaid that trust.
Farewell, sweet princess of cats and may you be at peace now. I don't know if I believe in anything supernatural but if Bast and Sekhmet exist anywhere but the minds of humans, I hope you're sleeping on warm sands in the ruins of their city, drinking from the oasis and you're with cats you love. Sleep well and I'm sorry I can't express how sorry I am to see you go, too early and too horribly. If we wronged you, forgive us please.
It's hard to think of it and both of us were crying our eyes out because it seemed so unfair and so cruel.
Dita was a real character, the only cat I've ever met who seemed to have comic timing. She was a chatty, almost insolent character who would happily answer back to things you said, usually when she was hungry but it wasn't time for more food. She loved her fuss and had a fondness for junk food, which makes me think that when she was a stray she'd found a chippie and taken to raiding the bins. When we met her she didn't bother to get up out of her bed and just lay in her pen letting us fuss her. This insouciance towards life characterised must of her nature, we were never allowed to see her play and you'd only hear the sound of her paffing toys around in the next room. If and when either of us tried to look in and watch, we'd find a chunky tortie sitting there looking for all the world as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. 'Me, play? Oh no, you've confused me with that other cat you have'.
Her relationship with Hobbes was strange, one moment they'd tolerate each other and the next he'd be trying to beat her up. I think he wanted to play, but she wasn't interested and would make that plain, usually rather loudly. They never played together, though sometimes she'd play a strange sort of 'minesweeper' where she poked at him through the cover until he emerged. I always felt so blessed if they snuggled up together and had a nap because it was always my hope that they would learn to love each other like siblings. Alas, it never happened. I don't know if he always saw her as an invader or if he just wanted to play, usually boisterously, and she didn't want to know. It was a shame for both of them because it meant their relationship was always pretty fraught and they never go what they wanted.
She was a lovely animal, one who loved having a tummy rub and would often stretch out more in her sleep if you stroked her belly. She also loved her head being fussed and would sometimes just rub against your hand to make it smell of her. I remember one time, the only time when she sat diligently rubbing against my hand and then knocked it down and proceeded to use me as a pillow. It was so sweet and really made me feel as if she loved and trusted me. I hope I repaid that trust.
Farewell, sweet princess of cats and may you be at peace now. I don't know if I believe in anything supernatural but if Bast and Sekhmet exist anywhere but the minds of humans, I hope you're sleeping on warm sands in the ruins of their city, drinking from the oasis and you're with cats you love. Sleep well and I'm sorry I can't express how sorry I am to see you go, too early and too horribly. If we wronged you, forgive us please.
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