I've posted about our boy cat Geezer, but not much about his sister Alice. Her name was to be Eloise, but The Husband said that was a silly name and said she should be called Alice Cooper. (Noticing a rock 'n roll naming theme here? Recognize the paraphrased song lyrics in the header?) I compromised and made Eloise her middle name. Alice Eloise Cooper Macko. Tiny kitten - long name.
When Alice came to me five years ago, I was recently married, living apart from my husband, and with a very typical (read: grumpy, argumentative, and only moderately well behaved) teenage son. I was kind of a lonely wreck and She was my best buddy. Few things were so special as my relationship with this kitten. For those of you who know what I mean when I say this - we talked to each other on a regular basis. And she understood me.
Went to the pet store with no intention of bringing home a cat. After all they were not allowed in my apartment building! I've never had a furry creature at my house. (Have I mentioned that I'm highly allergic to cats?) We went in for fish I think. But she looked at me and YELLED: "Hey! You! Lady! You need to take me home. Now! I'm only here in this this stupid store for you! I'm a gift from someone up there in charge who knows we need each other!" I managed to escape the store... but came back the next night. By night three, against all better judgment, I brought her home.
She. Picked. Me.
She was a blessing in so many ways. I can't even tell you.
Somehow when I moved to be with John, I allowed her to go and stay with John's aunt. She was an excellent foster parent by the way. It seemed that brother cat Geezer was too delicate with his medical conditions and neurosis to have his sister in the house. To be honest - we didn't even try to see if they might accept each other. It was assumed that it would be a disaster. And John and Geezer were there first. Before she ever came to me. I will never forgive myself for losing something so precious. It isn't fair to have to chose between your Husband and your cat. Your husband should ALWAYS be your choice. But it isn't fair.
That weekend, I moved from the home in which my son and I had spend the last eleven years, he went to a college dorm, I moved in with my husband and mother-in-law, I started a new job, and I gave away my best friend the cat. Honestly I haven't been the same since.
I'm sure she never understood where the world I went or why she had to go away. Baby girl, you never did anything wrong.
I couldn't bring myself to visit her - John even had to take her over to her new home while I was at work. In retrospect this was a huge mistake. Never give away time with something or someone you love because it might be uncomfortable.
Upon returning from my trip to St Louis, John had to let me know that she had become very ill and didn't survive. Bless his heart, I know he's never had to do anything harder in our relationship than to tell me that.
I've been in tears every day since. There is so much bundled with my sorrow in her passing, I can't even sort it all out. But I do need to work through it, so I'm telling you folks so that maybe it will have less power.
At least that's the plan.
We'll see if it works.