It is with great sadness that I report to my public, that one of our little gems has passed away. "Shirley," as named at the vet's office, even though we never actually called her that, was taken from us this past Saturday.
In a bizarre turn of events, this spitfire, who was the one who'd fallen the deepest into the wall, who was the one who was the tiniest of tiny, not even tipping the scales at a solid pound, turned ill and passed in a matter of about 36 hours.
We'd been trying to figure out the fate of the dynamic duo. We'd lined up a theoretical taker for one, but we'd said we'd keep them together for a month or so while they got stronger. Spotty, as she was tentatively called, attributing to the white splotch on her back that looked like spilled White-Out, had taken the early lead in the "race" to attach to our hearts. Absolutely wee, she nonetheless was lion-hearted. Every day, when we'd pass by their box with our milk bottle, she'd jump with all her might to try and vault out of the box to get her grub on. I'd ALWAYS pick her first, if for no other reason than she looked like she'd explode if she had to wait any longer. She'd wrap her kitten lips around the nipple, and pull the bottle with her paws, as if they actually had any genuine strength. Then she'd just guzzle.
Of her .8 pounds, I'd say that .75 of the weight was located in her eyes. Just giant saucers on this TINY frame. Wide-eyed at all times, when she took ill, it was obvious. First, she wouldn't eat. Then, the ferocity in the eyes started to diminish. Almost instantly, this sprite took on the persona of an old soul. When Saturday came around, and she still wouldn't eat, I rushed her over to the vet. He didn't see anything obviously wrong, and all of her vitals checked out okay. So I took her home, and we began to force feed her. But by the minute, she grew weaker and weaker until that very night, she died in my lap as quickly as she came to us. No final gasp. Nothing. Just here, then gone.
I was flabbergasted at the impact this cat made on us/me in a mere month's time. I was (am) so saddened to see her go. This little engine that could, just like that, couldn't. Allow me to indulge my inner seer, but I can't help but notice that RIGHT as we were losing her, her sister's spirit has risen in direct proportion. It's as if Spotty's spirit was transferred into her sister, leaving us with but one dynamo. In the days since Spotty passed, "Blackie" has been unstoppable. Bouncing off the walls, swatting aggressively at her bigger new pet siblings (Jack and Orville), and serving notice that she is here, and will take no crap.
Bubba and I are very thankful to have gotten to experience Spotty, if only for a month. For in this blip of a body was a lifetime of spirit.
In a bizarre turn of events, this spitfire, who was the one who'd fallen the deepest into the wall, who was the one who was the tiniest of tiny, not even tipping the scales at a solid pound, turned ill and passed in a matter of about 36 hours.
We'd been trying to figure out the fate of the dynamic duo. We'd lined up a theoretical taker for one, but we'd said we'd keep them together for a month or so while they got stronger. Spotty, as she was tentatively called, attributing to the white splotch on her back that looked like spilled White-Out, had taken the early lead in the "race" to attach to our hearts. Absolutely wee, she nonetheless was lion-hearted. Every day, when we'd pass by their box with our milk bottle, she'd jump with all her might to try and vault out of the box to get her grub on. I'd ALWAYS pick her first, if for no other reason than she looked like she'd explode if she had to wait any longer. She'd wrap her kitten lips around the nipple, and pull the bottle with her paws, as if they actually had any genuine strength. Then she'd just guzzle.
Of her .8 pounds, I'd say that .75 of the weight was located in her eyes. Just giant saucers on this TINY frame. Wide-eyed at all times, when she took ill, it was obvious. First, she wouldn't eat. Then, the ferocity in the eyes started to diminish. Almost instantly, this sprite took on the persona of an old soul. When Saturday came around, and she still wouldn't eat, I rushed her over to the vet. He didn't see anything obviously wrong, and all of her vitals checked out okay. So I took her home, and we began to force feed her. But by the minute, she grew weaker and weaker until that very night, she died in my lap as quickly as she came to us. No final gasp. Nothing. Just here, then gone.
I was flabbergasted at the impact this cat made on us/me in a mere month's time. I was (am) so saddened to see her go. This little engine that could, just like that, couldn't. Allow me to indulge my inner seer, but I can't help but notice that RIGHT as we were losing her, her sister's spirit has risen in direct proportion. It's as if Spotty's spirit was transferred into her sister, leaving us with but one dynamo. In the days since Spotty passed, "Blackie" has been unstoppable. Bouncing off the walls, swatting aggressively at her bigger new pet siblings (Jack and Orville), and serving notice that she is here, and will take no crap.
Bubba and I are very thankful to have gotten to experience Spotty, if only for a month. For in this blip of a body was a lifetime of spirit.
2 comments:
LIfe is precious and can't be taken for granted. The PEOPLE in our lives can also be taken in an instant, just as your sweet kitten was. Maybe this little sprite was sent to you for a reason. Hopefully you get the message......
Whoo....creepy message..."reason" being what? other anonymous
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