Babes, Feb. 2004, age 19

My precious little, petite and absolutely gorgeous kitty who was nearly 20, if not 20, passed away this morning. She started a slow decline in health back in August of last year — and even though her normalcies disappeared, she still seemed interested in living.

As of two weeks ago, she was unable to walk anymore and my parents tended to her 24/7. In an odd twist, she seemed to enjoyed the attention and thrive in an unexplainable way (if we sense any different, we would have ended it then). Every time my parents would pick her up there was a contentment that filled the room like nothing we’d ever seen before. She’d purr, eat, drink — all in the arms of people she knew loved her. It was almost as if this was “her” time.

We had hoped her heart would give out and she’d just drift off in her sleep but unforuntately, she wasn’t that lucky. Last night, she had a seizure and lost all control of her muscles and we think she wanted it to end. She expressed for the first time serious frustration — not pain but frustration and perhaps some confusion. She lashed out and bit anything she could but not us –to express her emotion. She told us without words that she had had enough.

We feel we honored her wishes as painful as it was to say good-bye. The vet says she most likely had a brain tumor that was taking away her control.

I’ve had Babes since I was 16 or 17 years old — nearly half of my life. My friend dropped her off at my house when I was still in high school hoping we’d take her — and of course we did. She was the size of a tea-cup — taken away from her mother way too young. It was heart-breaking. Babes took years to warm up to being held and loved — and it was like the last few months of her life — she made up for it. All she wanted was constantly love, attention and to be held — and she was.

When I went off to college, Babes and I were really close. We’d snuggle and nuzzle every day. We had a routine. I would lay down on my back, pick her up and suspend her over me. Then I’d rub my nose and face all over hers and she’d purr up a storm. She began to love it — but when I moved out she never forgave me. Ever. She always held a grudge against me for abandoning her — much like she must of thought her mother did. When I got married, I took her with me only to be strongly informed that option was not viable. She was miserable and made it known. She wanted to live at home — the only home she had ever known with or without me.

My heart is aching, and I am without words to describe my loss. I think she welcomed the relief of death, and yet that relief leaves such a huge void in my life, an absence, a cold, a chill — the unknown. Where did my sweet little soul go?

I dread going over to my parents house to feel it all the more… For the past year, she would lift her head to greet me as I walk in the door as she laid all snuggled in her bed. The thought that I will no longer see her makes me want to cry out in pain. Life can be so cruel and unfair. Everyday seems like a continual promise for tomorrow when the reality is — it’s not.

I love you my little sweet spirit. I love you for everything you were: strong, enduring, wise, intelligent, picky, persnickety, fiesty, and yet all at the same time, loving.

Thank you for gracing our lives with your beauty.

We are going to miss you more than words could ever express. I hope you are in a much better place…and I hope that one day we get to be close again…

If you have a pet, please kiss it for me in Babe’s honor…please?