Without any warning, our beautiful and beloved Girlie died July 5th, Wednesday night, Reader. One minute she was fine – eating and drinking and doing her thing – and the next moment I walked down the hall and found her lying at the bottom of the steps, limp as a ragdoll.
I called for My Mister, and he immediately fell apart, but he swooped her up and was trying to get her to snap herself back to us.
It was not to be. We put her on a towel in her favorite spot on the bed – the spot she claimed as “hers” when she was first brought to us by My Mister’s mother ten or eleven years ago. She hated us, the house, the other cats – but when night fell, she wanted that spot on the bed, right near MM’s left shoulder, and it’s where she slept every single night.
When Girlie was first brought to us – because MM’s mama had dogs that were making the cat too skittish to come up from their basement – I have to admit I was terrified of her. I know, a ten pound house cat had me nervous.
She was in charge. And she let you know it. One time, when MM was trying to hug her into loving him, she was so angry at the assault she bitch-slapped his glasses right off his face, and they flew across the room.
Girlie just wasn’t having it. I gave her a wide berth for the first year, and many times wanted to give her back. She wouldn’t hesitate to chomp ya if things weren’t just to her liking.
I know this isn’t painting her as the loveliest of kitty’s, but it’s her, and it would be dishonest not to mention all of her qualities. You had to earn her love, she didn’t just hand it out.
She was a little in love with our cat, Twinkle, and you could see her entire disposition change when he was in the room near her. She would preen and peacock around him, hoping for his attention. Even guests at our house would notice how she acted around Twink, and comment.
We worked on earning her love. Every. Day. And finally – finally – she started to cuddle up.
She was the Matriarch of the household – all the other cats knew it, too. The mean boy cats knew better than to ever bother her – she would take them down without a second thought – and the triplets, when they came home three years ago – wanted her to mama-cat them, and would walk up to her with their heads down, hoping for a motherly cleaning. She would oblige for a bit, until she’d had enough, and then she’d chomp their ear.
She knew who she was. She was the prettiest princess in all the land, but also a warrior not to be messed with. I just knew she was going to be my 25-year cat.
Girlie became an exceptional cuddler, a perfect cat with no bad cat habits whatsoever, except she demanded her food and would methodically proceed to knock everything off the nightstand until you got out of bed and fed her in the morning. She would start with the remote, then MM’s watch, then his phone, and then she’d move towards the lamp. I can’t even call that a bad habit, she just knew how to get our attention.
It is still a shock not to have her at home, in bed, under the covers and held very tightly next to us – which she enjoyed for a short while every night before relocating back to her spot. It was fast, they think a stroke, and while I prefer that to a long, drawn-out illness, there was no time to get used to the idea of it, either.
She lived a full 18-year old catlife, and our house just isn’t the same without her here in charge of all of us. The toughest part of being a pet owner is knowing you get a very short amount of time with them.
My friend posted a comment, “It’s a kind heart that loves much and hurts with loss.” Our hearts must be very kind, as we hurt much with the loss of our beloved members of our family.
Girlie, you were so loved and are so missed. I hope you have found your brothers, Stanley & Caesar, and your cat boyfriend Twinkie, waiting for you across that rainbow bridge
** Stanley & Caesar, above – her brothers. Twinkle Toes, bottom photo, her boyfriend.
This makes me laugh.
The old girl is snoring…
DJ & Mama, 2016: