Roxie was my beloved cat whom I adopted after the chance to cat sit for an elderly woman whom I had the chance encounter to help to pull together a book on education that she had wanted to write back in the early 2000's. Judy was a very intellectual woman who found me through a friend of a friend as she needed someone to proof her book, would adopt this precious white and dark patched kitten named Roxie. Over the 18 months or so that I knew Judy, I had seen Roxie grow from an inquisitive kitten into just an ordinary house cat. Roxie at that time was nothing so special to me but Judy found out that she had cancer and that she needed someone to watch Roxie while she went through Chemo and I reluctantly agreed to take care of Roxie for six weeks which evolved into six months and then finally to a complete adoption.
I say reluctantly because I'm no stranger to death in my immediate 24/7 family - having lost my beloved Richard in 1993, I have experienced having my heart torn out and shattered into a million pieces. And in the years since, I have found that time doesn't really heal wounds - it just blurs your memories and suddenly you find you forgot a precious date and then you know life has moved on and you are guilty of being older and forgetful.
Oddly, when it comes to pets, I have sought the sick and needing a home and that tends to precipitate situations that don't provide a long life for the cat; and it was true that the two cats that I had the opportunity to provide a loving home were neither that healthy nor long lived - I've had two die on me and I vowed I would swear off going through another such situation. The first cat was never healthy and passed within two years. I was hurt but the pain didn't have a long reel of memories from which to play from. The second cat, Mookie, was a precious companion Himalayan long hair with precious blue eyes and the markings of a siamese. She'd learn to ride on my shoulder and she'd press her cold nose into my ear. I took the chance to let her into my heart and she curled up there long enough to find a place all her own and I developed a real love for her as a companion. But, I had adopted her as a five year old and she lived for about seven more years before making a frightful sound and passing away in front of me which precipitated a hysterical week of reliving her passing and Richard's. After this, I was not in any mood or condition to make this a three peat of death so I was pussy free for over a year until Judy's request for me to watch Roxie.
During the cat-sitting and first year of being Roxie's new caretaker, I really pushed off getting close to Roxie. I seriously was not ready to take care of a cat.
But I underestimated the power of Roxie. I'm no stranger to being around cats and have grown up with more of them than I care to admit (or can remember). But there was something about Roxie that transgressed the boundary of mere cat and what constitutes a feline goddess. I've never really experienced a cat who seemed to grow in intelligence or ability to learn new things, but Roxie never failed to surprise me with learning how to entrap me with her vast meow vocabulary and well placed furry brushups against my face when I had a bad day or flashbacks to Richard when he wasn't sick.
And so time flew with Roxie. We moved several times and she adapted and formed new habits and ultimately showcased the ability to be the "Ultimate Cuddle Kitty" where she would claim her half of the bed and more and then seek to push me further into my half so she could have her three quarters.
I've been around dogs as well (though I'm not so fond of them generally though a few have been remarkable), but I've never seen a cat learn to stand on her hind feet and beg when I had something to eat that she claimed to be hers as well. And with practice, Roxie mastered the concept of standing on her hind legs and sitting on her big ass and then to move her front paws to emphasize her desire for what I was eating.
Roxie was a remarkably healthy cat - she had an encounter or two of urinary tract infections, but when I learned that she was getting these because she liked whipped cream and cheddar cheese and ice cream too much, I had to go cold turkey with her and the infections never returned.
It was in this healthy perspective that I had approached her - she seemed like a youthful life form for so long that I was taken aback when she seemed to not see my hands approaching her face until they got closer than usual when giving her treats that she so craved. Roxie was a big-boned gurl, she had once weighted 18 pounds but I got her down to 15 and she was comfortable and not bloated like some fat cats - she was a very big gurl - the size of a tomcat - so she had some serious body length that helped to mask her weight. And since my prior two kitties seemed to lose weight prior to their passing, I wasn't going to deny Roxie a few extra pounds.
This winter, things started to change with Roxie - slowly at first, but picking up a profound and scary velocity as it was obvious her eye sight was failing her and she was having problems navigating the apartment as smoothly as she had once done. I took the risk of moving things to a closer proximity to my bedroom so she'd not have to go as far for her natural needs and this seemed to help with her as she found her litter box and feed and water area with more ease.
Then the week before St. Patrick's Day pulled together the signs that Roxie wasn't doing well - she was still eating, but she was losing weight and her eye sight was getting worse where she'd nearly walk into walls before suddenly changing course. She was still moving though it was looking a bit labored to my layman eyes.
The Thursday before St. Patrick's day was the beginning of the end. Roxie stopped eating. I could barely get her to lick the juices off her favorite foods and then Friday had her neither eating nor drinking. Then she became sluggish and she started to have a scary meow. I knew she was 15 and the only recourse I was likely to have was to get her to the vet to have her on IV to extend her life for a few days or to let nature take its course where I had no signs of significant or valuable life.
As life would have it, her condition continued to worse then night of the 16th and Saint Patrick's Day morning turned into a slide into deep sleep interrupted by scary meows; I might have collected enough sleep that day before work to equal an hour, but I finally entered the land of the Sand Man around 6 in the morning and I had to wake up at 7 to get ready for work.
The last thing I remember was Roxie had moved from her cat carrier that she had claimed as her own apartment for the last decade and she had moved out to the middle of the hardwood floor of the dining room and I could have sworn I saw her move her front feet as my bedroom door and bed placement gave me a view where she was. It was like her moving her feet to wave goodbye, but I was so tired that I just passed out.
When I awoke she was gone.
I had to be at work. I was hysterical. I was wailing and making all the Oscar Award winning sounds that the best have done. I had to suck it up - to man it up - and walk past her with enough stability to cover her in her favorite blanket and to walk out the door so that I wouldn't inconvenience a co-worker at the last minute over the death of a mere cat.
Roxie was my companion for these past 12 or 13 years and she not only found a place in my heart, but she took more space than anyone other than Richard - and when she passed, I will admit to being a blubbering fool. Sunday the 18th was hell as I had to do something with her. My work schedule was going to be hell that Monday through Wednesday so the thought of having her in the apartment during that time was driving me toward insanity with grief. I somehow managed enough manhood and backbone to slide her now stiffened body onto her blanket via a piece of cardboard and the challenge before me was finding a box that could contain her extra sized cat body length. With a little work I found a box where she could go in diagonally and her blanket was the lining to the box and a matching blanket that she used in the winter was placed over her as the flaps of the cardboard box closed over her. Hollywood has nothing over a fag losing a pet when it comes to visual moments. And the sounds we make are no less impactful.
God has a way of solving most problems and I awoke early on that Monday, the 19th, with a headache that was the worst I had. I figured that I was coming down with the flu as I have managed to avoid the big one everyone was willing to give everyone else. I got up, called into work, and passed out until early afternoon - I finally got more than minutes of uninterrupted sleep - and I managed to avoid being awoken by phantom cat meows that I swore I had heard that had awoken me and triggered another blubbering spell.
That Monday I had finalized my plans for Roxie and I searched and found a human funeral home that would cremate her for a reasonable fee and I pulled myself together so that I could drive. I cleared out the trunk of the Ford and placed Roxie in the back and proceeded to the funeral home where a wonderful and sensitive woman took care of me and my Roxie and double checked to see if I was okay to drive because I lost it after handing her over to the funeral home. It just wouldn't be Southern to continue to blubber in public so I took a deep breath and straightened up and held my head high and sat in the Ford and drove away.
I must be honest here, that I am writing this through eyes of tears clinging to my eyes and then collecting to form drops down my cheeks. But I've taken the step of talking to the air this past Thursday to recognize her and her life and what she meant to me in a verbal step toward heeling. I did set the ground rules that I don't want to be awakened to cat meows like that have happened since she passed and she has accepted these terms. I still think I here her jumping off the table where she demanded her food before becoming too ill (I feared she might fall off). Her cat carrier remains in her place and I told the air that it won't move out of respect to her so she has a place to go if she seeks it.
Life is better each day now - but I miss her so. She was more than a pet - she was a daily and hourly companion who gave me so much. If you are a pet lover you understand. I am not in the market for another companion, but as pet owners know, we don't go looking for the next one. The next one finds us. And I'm okay with that as that will mean the next chapter in making room in my heart will commence. (Tears).
so sorry for your loss....RIP roxie
ReplyDeleteYou never know what you've lost until it happens. Thanks MarkE
ReplyDelete