My friend Katie stopped by one day almost 20 years ago for a visit. Our visits were quite long as she is totally deaf and we communicated mostly with her perfect ability to lipread and my limited ability to use sign language. She taught me the sign for cat and insisted that I needed one in my life. I told her I was okay with it but would need to check with Ken who was my husband at the time. It didn’t take much convincing and we were off to be introduced to a litter of kittens. One little solid black kitten in particular caught my attention and kept coming up to me, rubbing up against my legs. There were so many to choose from, all adorable and very friendly. As I held the tiny kitten and felt her soft purr, that was it for me. I knew she was mine just as I was hers. It was more of a reunion for us. We took her home and started the process of giving her a name. She was so very tiny and one of the most playful kittens I have seen, very happy to have our full attention. One thing she loved to do was chase her tail. She could go so fast as she chased the elusive tail that she looked like a black tornado – or a Tasmanian devil. We called her Taz and it seemed to be just perfect as she did her whirling and tail-chasing daily. I was working from home and had an office where I spent most of my days. She wanted to be with me, so I got a shoe box and put it on my desk, which she fit in perfectly. This was how we spent many many days, Taz and I. She made me laugh with her antics and I gave her loads of love strokes.
As the years went on our family grew with the addition of Gizmo, a Main Coon cat, Patsy Kline who was a stray, and our darling token canine Ali. We moved several times much to their dismay – cats and cars just do not mix. In Arizona, both Patsy and Ali decided it was time to move on, both in the same year. That year was devastating for me. And then there were two – Taz and Gizmo. They have been together for close to 19 years, insanely different in personalities but always there for the other if they think something is wrong.
Sometime over the weekend I suspect that Tazzie suffered a stroke. She has never had a problem vocalizing that she is hungry. For such a tiny cat she can eat three times what Gizmo eats and he is huge. This morning, however, she didn’t get up out of her bed and was not interested in eating. I let her rest but kept an eye on her. Eventually, she walked to the bathroom but was dragging one leg behind her. When she didn’t come out for awhile, I checked on her and found her laying in the litter box. I have known for awhile that she has been declining in health but this was the sign I had asked her to give me that it was time to let her go. I picked her up and held her close, sitting with her and assuring her that it was okay to leave. I sent mental images to her of when she was young and helped her to see how much she means to me. I held her close to my heart so she could feel my heartbeat. I asked the angels to help her as she makes her transition from her physical body to go join her sisters, Ali and Patsy, and told her that I know I will see her again. This little princess, who reminds me of an Egyptian royal cat, is getting ready to leave me and I am a total wreck over it. She is my child, my joy, my constant companion. How do I even express what she means to me? It’s impossible. There will be a hole in my heart and an emptiness in my life without her. I connected with my ex-husband and let him say goodbye to her. She was his little girl also. She would greet him at the door and always showed such beautiful affection to him. We have both been blessed by this little angel.
I wrote that yesterday. This morning at 9:55 Taz passed peacefully as I held her in my arms. Fly high little angel.