My dearest little Annie,
Your life was not the long and happy one you deserved, but you had a very special impact on my life, and your story deserves to be told, and your life not forgotten.
It had been a few months since I had lost one of my beloved kitties to hyperthyroidism, a girl named Kelly that I had had for 15 years. When I saw you in a cage, up for adoption, my heart skipped a beat. You were almost the spitting image of Kelly. I asked about you, and was told that you were several years old, and had had a very hard life. Your previous owner had left you and many other cats (40 or more) behind and closed the door behind her. By the time you and your “brothers and sisters” were discovered, several were dead, many more were dying, and the rest, you included, were just barely hanging on. Your beautiful long hair was all gone, and your foster mother kept you for two years before she felt you might be ready to be adopted.
I realized you were a special cat with special needs, but I’ve had good luck with such kitties before, and I knew you needed a lot of love and patience. I had plenty of each. I brought you home a week later, after fixing up a place special for you where you would feel safe. You hid for a week or so, but I made sure to talk to you all the time, and make sure you ate and drank. When you first came out, I told you how special you were, and how much I loved you, and I pet you, and you would go get something to eat, then come back to me to start the process all over again. I began to wonder if you would ever eat without me talking and petting you first!
Your foster mother came by once and saw you cavorting in my arms, purring, and said that she had never realized you were like that. You never demanded attention, but enjoyed it so much. It’s almost as if you never knew you deserved it. But you did, little lady, you did so much.
Almost all of your teeth (except the fangs) had to be pulled, and when you were spayed the vet said it looked like you had started having kittens from your first heat. I don’t think you were ever allowed to be a kitten. I thought you didn’t like to play until one day, after I had you for at least a year, you found a little piece of cellophane paper on the floor and went crazy with it. Nothing else had ever caught your attention before, and I laughed with joy to see your happiness! You weren’t very coordinated, but that didn’t matter at all.
At night, if it was a little cool, you would like to come up by my side with my arm curled around you. If my arm was already close to my side, you would lightly tap my arm until there was enough room for you to come into it. You would turn around and around and around until you finally found a comfortable position, sometimes repeating this 3 or 4 times, and go to sleep. I would sometimes wake up with your little head tucked under my chin.
You remained shy, but no longer really afraid of people (unless they were trying to do something to you you didn’t want, like give you medicine; but you wouldn’t allow me to do that either), and even made good friends with a few. You really blossomed, my little girl. One thing you never got over – you didn’t like to drink water from a bowl, You wanted to drink running water, from a faucet. You woke me up each morning to turn on the water for you in the bathroom. Once you drank your fill, you were fine.
In August of this year I moved in with my grandmother, with you and your “sister”. In no time she was turning on the water faucet for you too. I do believe she fell in love with you as well. In her home there are many many windows, and places in front of each of them for a little girl like you to sit and look out. You were ecstatic! As happy as you appeared to be before, you became a new creature, trotting from window to window, making happy little noises, jumping into my arms for a nap when you got tired, and then making the rounds of the windows again!
In mid-September you caught a cold. You had a cold before, and I was sure I knew what to do for it, but suddenly you stopped eating and drinking. I took you to the vet, who said you appeared to be inb liver failure (what?!), and the cold was apparently unrelated. The best that could be hoped for was 6 months to a year on medication. I knew that trying to give you medication would absolutely terrify you, and I wouldn’t let you suffer, so I had them release your spirit while I held you in my arms.
No, baby, I only had you a couple of years, but you taught me that it was worth it to give time and love to one of the “forgotten” ones, the litle ones that would live out their whole lives without knowing love unless someone is willing to take the risk and give their heart to an animal who had a rough start in life. The love you returned to me was worth everything. You will be truly missed. Your candle didn’t burn long, but it sure burned brightly.
If your little soul made its way to heaven, look up my mother. She will love you and hold you until I get there. Ok? I keep telling myself that there are no more tears in heaven. You deserve that kind of life.
With gratitude and love,
Your mama