And Then There Were Three

Candlecrest Lily White was born on February 25, 2001.

She died today, January 28, 2015; our 30th wedding anniversary.

She was our elderly, white Maine Coon cat that we adopted from a cattery when she was nine years old.

She was a queen, delivering who knows how many kittens in her lifetime. But at age nine; she was no longer viable, so we took her home to live with us. She then became a Queen.

She was not a pet, although she liked to be petted on her terms.

But as time went by, she became more trusting, especially of me.

Two  months ago, she decided it was safe to get  in my lap, and so a ritual began. As soon as I sat down on the couch with my morning coffee; she was there. If I was running a little late, she used her "wookie" noise to call me. 

She was a loner; the other cats avoided her. She had a medical condition; perhaps that was why. We called her "Darth Vader" because of her breathing. As her condition worsened, she had a harder time grooming. We finally had to have some of her teeth removed because of the inflammation of her gums, but she loved wet cat food and recovered well.

About three weeks ago, she quit eating it - it was as though she couldn't eat, not because she didn't want it. We gave her soup broth and mashed potatoes (that girl loved her some mashed potatoes, begged for them at the table if we were having them with a meal). I finally  hit on the idea of baby food, and she loved it. Up until yesterday, she was consuming three or four jars of turkey, chicken or beef in gravy. 

I could tell she was still losing weight, and I had scheduled an appointment for her for Friday to see the vet.

But yesterday afternoon, she suddenly looked worse. She looked more unkempt than usual and her eye looked wonky, too. And she couldn't eat her supper. She tried, and it even looked like she was eating, but when she moved away from the plate, the food was still there.

I fed her this morning, same thing. So, as soon as coffee and lap petting time was over; I called the vet and we took her.

I petted her, sang to her, and talked to her as we waited, because, in my heart, I knew. She would butt my belly if I stopped petting, so I was pretty busy.

The vet felt a hard knot on her jaw. She was able, barely, to shed a light in Lily's mouth to see the damage. I saw it, too. 

Lily could barely open her mouth. Because there was a huge tumor from her lower jaw bone, and it had grown so  much, there was no room. Not even for baby food.

You know the rest of the story. And I surely am not able to tell it here, not now.

Husband is down in the wooded area behind our house, digging another fresh grave. She will join Angel, a former white haired beauty of a cat, Sam and Buster, our Boxers, Belle, our Bull Mastiff, Aussie, our Cockatiel, Perri our parakeet, and Molly, our American Bulldog. 

Grief is a terrible thing, but what would we do without it?

I don't know your belief on animals in Heaven, but I know mine. And I know where Lily is right now. 

I want to see my Christ first, then my loved ones who have gone on before me.

And then, I want to see my pets....

Good-bye, sweet girl! See you later, 
Love, 
Your  human mama