After the loss of Honeybee’s grandpa I was thrust into finals. You should’ve seen it: a fit of frenzy taking pictures and editing for my photography class and hand making a box for my bookbinding class. My best study buddy was always Pokie. She’d curl up right next to me. Well, somewhere in there she developed a tumor. At first I couldn’t really tell, but over the next few weeks her neck’s swelling was more than apparent. The vet took wonderful samples of the growth and promised to get back in touch with us with the results. Before they could, though, Pokie’s breathing became strained. I’d been blending up her food, but even that didn’t help. We took her in to the emergency room where they put her on oxygen.
Our test results came in while we waited. A very malignant lymphoma was suffocating our keety. She was suffering and even though it was positively impossible to cope with the fact that all her best purrs were behind her, we had to make the tough decision to say goodbye. I missed her and she was only in the other room. I love how she always curled up on my purse if I wouldn’t sit still long enough. Or would wait patiently for Matt to wake up so she could get her pets.
I never really loved a pet before. The only other cat I had hated me, so I drowned my sorrows on internet cats until I met Matt. For five years my favorite place was next to my Matt and his cat. She was with him for five years while he was single and another five when he was married before. At least 15 years old, but probably 17. She definitely lived a long keety life. Pokie passed from this world on March 16th (the day before Honeybee’s birthday).
Oh, but we miss her. We keep having these ghost feelings of her at our feet.
I framed up this picture of her years ago, now it sits with her empty bowls. I love how she seems bigger than the frame, larger than life. True, when I met her Pokie was a bit overweight. But we developed a system and fed her better quality food and her health had improved. She was always active, always sweet. When we first met I thought she didn’t like me. Or maybe that she did, but she was nipping gently at my hand, either way it was a bit freaky. Turns out she just had a little snaggle tooth. So damn cute. We figured that out because when she didn’t like you she would actually sigh. Very expressive exhalations. As though it took all the strength she could muster to deal with my imperfect pets or not-fast-enough food service. I could tell she loved me cause any time I was bedridden with lady-cramps, she would make biscuits on my belly. How many kitties do you know give massages? Only Pokie. Even on the day she died.
What about you? Have you ever lost a pet that was a family member? Does it get any easier?
rip Pokie Loo