TheBanyanTree: RIP "Baby" 1992-2005

[trebro at att.net]

My mom called me today for the phone call that I knew was coming.  Her oldest cat, the first pet cat I was ever allowed to have, was put to sleep this morning to end her suffering.  She was 13, with multiple terminal illnesses.

I haven't been super close to her for years--even when I lived in the house, she was closer to Mom than she was to me, but it still is a loss that I feel from a distance.  Mom's been going through hell over the holidays debating what to do--she had to balance keeping her alive with the knowledge that every day was pain for the cat.

I remember vividly how we first got her, how she was a little beige blob of a kitten, found after her monther was killed in a car accident and she was given to a foster mom cat, who had slightly older kittens of her own.  The foster mom was in turn fostered by us, back in the heyday of our time volunteering at the local animal shelter.  She was called Max, and later "Mad Max" because she came to hate me for no good reason, and would go so far as to try and batter down my bedroom door to get at me.  Very strange, I assure you.

At any rate, Baby's size didn't deter her from trying everything the slightly older kittens did--from playing with them to the time they all discovered what stairs were for. Oh, the joys of trying to catch about 5 (maybe it was 6) kittens all running about in a hiding place-laden basement!

We weren't going to keep her.  We weren't going to keep any of them.  Thus, we called them the brown one, the gray one, the striped one, and so on.  "The beige one" didn't sound quite right to us, so we called her "the baby."  One day, we were  looking around the kitchen and couldn't find her.  I don't remember if it was me or my mom that said, "Where's the baby?", but she came out immediately, very happy to have been called.

At that point, we knew she was ours to keep.

Baby used to come with us in the car from time to time.  She'd even sit on your lap and watch the world go past.  We took her on a vacation to Lake Erie in northwest Pennsylvania, and she played in the sand.  That was about the only time she liked the outdoors--we'd try to take her out on a leash, and she'd be pawing at the door to come back in.

Baby was in a fashion show once, with my mom.  They were really stylin', and even got into the local newspaper.  She was a superstar!

When I went to college, Baby didn't take to me like she did before.  I think she was really hurt that I'd left home.  Who else was going to let her spear shredded cheese off a plate or put her paw on some popcorn?  It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it was so darned cute to watch.

The past few years, I knew she was slowing down.  She'd spend most of her time on my visits home sleeping on the top of the sofe, looking out the double windows down at the passing deer, turkeys, and various other animals.  She'd play sometimes, but you could tell she wasn't really able to do it like she used to.

We found out she was dying a few months ago.  Mom and Dad took it hard, it's their cat after all.  I've tried to be the strong one, to tell them it's okay, and that it's okay to be sad about it.  I didn't think I'd be this upset, but now that I get to the end of this story, I'm crying.  She's really gone, and we'll all miss her.

The cat is at peace now, and that's the important thing.

-Rob