Kastil
10-04-2007, 02:27 PM
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was working at a plant nursery when a black cat with a white spot on her throat shimmied up on the porch pregnant. She seemed to check us out, to see if we were worthy of her presence. She came from the farm that was just beside the 10 acre nursery. They had gotten a couple of dogs and she did not prove but she liked us. We named her Notch because of her notched ear, possibly from a fight.
She feed her and adopted her, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her kittens. Then one day, August 17, 1990 to be exact, we noticed Notch was no longer pregnant. She had her kittens and hid them away from the nosy humans. We didn’t let that stop us and we tailed her, seeing her casually stand by the shed but not enter. That had to be the place. We checked it, tried to hear kitten meowing but found nothing. We even checked for sound where the back end was open enough to allow entry.
The next thing we know, Notch came to us in a panic meowing. She begged us to follow and unveiled her secret. The kittens were in the shed. We took them out and I held Rose for the first time. He fit in the palm of my hand and instantly, I felt a connection. I had only had dogs in my life to that point, never a cat. My husband and I were searching for an apartment, already on the way to getting married at that point. He wasn’t pleased when I showed him this all black cat and told him I wanted to keep him but he let it go, seeing how much I loved the furball.
Rose greeted me every morning at the nursery by running up. I’d tap my shoulder and he’d run up my pant leg and rest on my shoulder. I carried him around as I worked and eventually, I knew he couldn’t stay at the nursery. He liked getting under cars too much. My mom kept him until we found an apartment. They had two rules at the place we got- the cat had to be declawed and fixed. He was too young for that and I signed a paper saying I would do it. That’s when I found out that the cat I had thought was female (and thus named Rose) was in fact male. I was unsure of what to do. He knew his name and I loved the flower which is why I named him what I did. I decided it didn’t matter what his name was.
Rose was happy kitten, running from one side of the apartment to the other. It was very small. He gleefully attacked any feet you did not cover with the blankets at night. He often wanted to sleep right in the middle of my back and my husband, knowing I had back problems, lovingly removed him every time he did that. Rose settled for my legs after being moved numerous times.
When we moved to the place we live now, I had Rose beside me in the U Haul and the radio didn’t work in the stupid thing. He meowing mournfully the whole time and I sang softly to him to soothe his fears. The carrier meant ‘vet’ after all. When we got to the house, he was a scared kitten, barely a year old. My husband told me to stay with him. He and the others could handle moving our meager belongings into the house. So down in the basement I cuddled and consoled Rose, telling him it would be all right. In typical fashion, Rose had an ‘accident’ in the room that is now my son’s but soon he adjusted to his new home, finding many places to explore in the basement. Just like he was when he was a kitten, he found the messiest corners and came to me with cobwebs all over his face. His face remained innocent as if he’d done nothing wrong.
Rose rarely needed to go to the Vet. He was a healthy cat. He did scare me a couple of times, though. Once, around Christmas, he knew his wet food was in the pantry. At that time, we actually closed the door. I was running late for work and got something to eat out of the pantry and Rose slipped right in under my nose. We had a container of Clorox Clean-up which Rose managed to puncture with his claws. There he stayed all day in the smell of chemicals. I called to him when I got home like I always do and heard the faint meow. I could hardly stand the smell when I opened the door and I certainly can’t fathom how Rose lived through it but he did.
The second instance, the little bugger got outside when I was going to work. He spent the whole day AND night outside. It wasn’t until the following morning when he didn’t come up to greet me that I noticed. I worked real late in those days so not seeing Rose wasn’t anything new but he made sure he nudged me awake in the morning. I panicked when he didn’t answer my call. I ran outside, calling to him as I circled the house. As I came to the front, there he was on the porch quite ready to go inside. He never tried to go outside again after that day.
Over the years I spoiled Rose with toys, fixed my blanket after I got out of bed so he had a nook to sleep in, opened the window for him to lie in, and fashioned him a stocking for Christmas. Every Christmas card has a hand-drawn paw with the word ‘Rose’ on it. He was family. He was my baby and I was his mother
When he got a lump on the side, I took him to the vet and had them check him over thoroughly. When the test came back negative for cancer, I decided that having a 14 year old cat go under the knife for something that didn’t bother him wasn’t wise. I didn’t care what Rose looked like, I loved him no matter what even through his moods. I noticed him slowing down, his back paws starting to become arthritic. He had troubles with pooping and after talking to a few vets, I tried pumpkin and hairball stuff. What did the trick was wet food, twice daily.
Soon Rose barely finished his second can at night and then the first can was too much. He became thin…too thin. I bathed him as often as I could because he has trouble grooming and I knew Rose liked to keep clean. He’d lay in the water unmoving, not having the strength to fight being bathed. He spent more time in a wet bathtub that any sane cat would avoid.
Sunday, September 30, 2007. I took Rose to be blessed at the church in honor of St. Francis. I knew in my heart this was more or less his last rites. Rose had slowed down considerably. I started preparing myself somehow knowing this was the week he would go to God.
Yesterday, my son called me. I thought for sure he found Rose dead, something I hoped that my son would not go through. He said Rose had litter all over his belly and refused to clean it, stating it was gross. So I bathed Rose last night, having to put him in one sink with no water after his head slipped under because he couldn’t support it. I hugged him and dried him. He meowed as if in pain last night and I called to him. Slowly he turned and took painful steps toward me. I met him and picked him up, placing him between my legs to rest. He slept peacefully. Because of his bladder issues, I took a blanket and carefully folded it last night. Putting it in the kitchen, I laid Rose on it and kissed him good night. He laid there unmoving.
In the morning, October 4 2007, my husband did not see him and searched the basement fearfully. Then he saw him when he came back to the kitchen, lying in his litter box. I went to Rose and took the lid off when he wouldn’t come it me. I put him on the blanket and he just laid there. I tried to will him to stand but he went to fall every time. I knew then it was time. I had to do what was right for Rose and cast aside my selfish need.
I let my son hold him to say goodbye before he went to school and then I held Rose until the vet office opened. It had been three years since they saw him and technically they couldn’t take him as a patient anymore but when I explain (crying) why I called, they said to come in at 9:10am.
Thankfully my husband was home because I couldn’t drive in my condition. I wrapped Rose in the blanket I had just made him and cradled him close. I stroked him softly as the doctor did what needed to be done. I got to say goodbye to my faithful companion. God, this hurts so much to write. I was going to bury him but then the doctor said they cremate on the premises in a respectful way and I could have the ashes or he could scatter them on his farm. I chose to have them scattered. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They did a paw print for me to remember my precious Rose.
He’s with God now and in a better place. He gave me 17 years of unconditional love and I miss him so much. My husband thought he was a pain but as he was in my arms and being put to sleep, he wept along with me. I think he loved that cat more than he’d like to admit. I think a part of us all has died this day and in time I will heal but I’ll never forget that fuzzy little face.
RIP Rose. Mommy will always love you.
1832
She feed her and adopted her, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her kittens. Then one day, August 17, 1990 to be exact, we noticed Notch was no longer pregnant. She had her kittens and hid them away from the nosy humans. We didn’t let that stop us and we tailed her, seeing her casually stand by the shed but not enter. That had to be the place. We checked it, tried to hear kitten meowing but found nothing. We even checked for sound where the back end was open enough to allow entry.
The next thing we know, Notch came to us in a panic meowing. She begged us to follow and unveiled her secret. The kittens were in the shed. We took them out and I held Rose for the first time. He fit in the palm of my hand and instantly, I felt a connection. I had only had dogs in my life to that point, never a cat. My husband and I were searching for an apartment, already on the way to getting married at that point. He wasn’t pleased when I showed him this all black cat and told him I wanted to keep him but he let it go, seeing how much I loved the furball.
Rose greeted me every morning at the nursery by running up. I’d tap my shoulder and he’d run up my pant leg and rest on my shoulder. I carried him around as I worked and eventually, I knew he couldn’t stay at the nursery. He liked getting under cars too much. My mom kept him until we found an apartment. They had two rules at the place we got- the cat had to be declawed and fixed. He was too young for that and I signed a paper saying I would do it. That’s when I found out that the cat I had thought was female (and thus named Rose) was in fact male. I was unsure of what to do. He knew his name and I loved the flower which is why I named him what I did. I decided it didn’t matter what his name was.
Rose was happy kitten, running from one side of the apartment to the other. It was very small. He gleefully attacked any feet you did not cover with the blankets at night. He often wanted to sleep right in the middle of my back and my husband, knowing I had back problems, lovingly removed him every time he did that. Rose settled for my legs after being moved numerous times.
When we moved to the place we live now, I had Rose beside me in the U Haul and the radio didn’t work in the stupid thing. He meowing mournfully the whole time and I sang softly to him to soothe his fears. The carrier meant ‘vet’ after all. When we got to the house, he was a scared kitten, barely a year old. My husband told me to stay with him. He and the others could handle moving our meager belongings into the house. So down in the basement I cuddled and consoled Rose, telling him it would be all right. In typical fashion, Rose had an ‘accident’ in the room that is now my son’s but soon he adjusted to his new home, finding many places to explore in the basement. Just like he was when he was a kitten, he found the messiest corners and came to me with cobwebs all over his face. His face remained innocent as if he’d done nothing wrong.
Rose rarely needed to go to the Vet. He was a healthy cat. He did scare me a couple of times, though. Once, around Christmas, he knew his wet food was in the pantry. At that time, we actually closed the door. I was running late for work and got something to eat out of the pantry and Rose slipped right in under my nose. We had a container of Clorox Clean-up which Rose managed to puncture with his claws. There he stayed all day in the smell of chemicals. I called to him when I got home like I always do and heard the faint meow. I could hardly stand the smell when I opened the door and I certainly can’t fathom how Rose lived through it but he did.
The second instance, the little bugger got outside when I was going to work. He spent the whole day AND night outside. It wasn’t until the following morning when he didn’t come up to greet me that I noticed. I worked real late in those days so not seeing Rose wasn’t anything new but he made sure he nudged me awake in the morning. I panicked when he didn’t answer my call. I ran outside, calling to him as I circled the house. As I came to the front, there he was on the porch quite ready to go inside. He never tried to go outside again after that day.
Over the years I spoiled Rose with toys, fixed my blanket after I got out of bed so he had a nook to sleep in, opened the window for him to lie in, and fashioned him a stocking for Christmas. Every Christmas card has a hand-drawn paw with the word ‘Rose’ on it. He was family. He was my baby and I was his mother
When he got a lump on the side, I took him to the vet and had them check him over thoroughly. When the test came back negative for cancer, I decided that having a 14 year old cat go under the knife for something that didn’t bother him wasn’t wise. I didn’t care what Rose looked like, I loved him no matter what even through his moods. I noticed him slowing down, his back paws starting to become arthritic. He had troubles with pooping and after talking to a few vets, I tried pumpkin and hairball stuff. What did the trick was wet food, twice daily.
Soon Rose barely finished his second can at night and then the first can was too much. He became thin…too thin. I bathed him as often as I could because he has trouble grooming and I knew Rose liked to keep clean. He’d lay in the water unmoving, not having the strength to fight being bathed. He spent more time in a wet bathtub that any sane cat would avoid.
Sunday, September 30, 2007. I took Rose to be blessed at the church in honor of St. Francis. I knew in my heart this was more or less his last rites. Rose had slowed down considerably. I started preparing myself somehow knowing this was the week he would go to God.
Yesterday, my son called me. I thought for sure he found Rose dead, something I hoped that my son would not go through. He said Rose had litter all over his belly and refused to clean it, stating it was gross. So I bathed Rose last night, having to put him in one sink with no water after his head slipped under because he couldn’t support it. I hugged him and dried him. He meowed as if in pain last night and I called to him. Slowly he turned and took painful steps toward me. I met him and picked him up, placing him between my legs to rest. He slept peacefully. Because of his bladder issues, I took a blanket and carefully folded it last night. Putting it in the kitchen, I laid Rose on it and kissed him good night. He laid there unmoving.
In the morning, October 4 2007, my husband did not see him and searched the basement fearfully. Then he saw him when he came back to the kitchen, lying in his litter box. I went to Rose and took the lid off when he wouldn’t come it me. I put him on the blanket and he just laid there. I tried to will him to stand but he went to fall every time. I knew then it was time. I had to do what was right for Rose and cast aside my selfish need.
I let my son hold him to say goodbye before he went to school and then I held Rose until the vet office opened. It had been three years since they saw him and technically they couldn’t take him as a patient anymore but when I explain (crying) why I called, they said to come in at 9:10am.
Thankfully my husband was home because I couldn’t drive in my condition. I wrapped Rose in the blanket I had just made him and cradled him close. I stroked him softly as the doctor did what needed to be done. I got to say goodbye to my faithful companion. God, this hurts so much to write. I was going to bury him but then the doctor said they cremate on the premises in a respectful way and I could have the ashes or he could scatter them on his farm. I chose to have them scattered. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They did a paw print for me to remember my precious Rose.
He’s with God now and in a better place. He gave me 17 years of unconditional love and I miss him so much. My husband thought he was a pain but as he was in my arms and being put to sleep, he wept along with me. I think he loved that cat more than he’d like to admit. I think a part of us all has died this day and in time I will heal but I’ll never forget that fuzzy little face.
RIP Rose. Mommy will always love you.
1832