« Strawberry Fayre | Main | Wayne Rooney's foot. »
June 06, 2006
18 Years; Not Bad For a Cat
It seems that as one creature passes into our life, another passes out. In the past couple of weeks I have both gained an lost a cat.
She remained living with my mum when I left home, but I chose Molly all those years ago. Dad had said that we were only allowed one kitten but when we got there most of the litter had been claimed except two.
Molly was sitting, head cocked on one side as if butter wouldn’t melt - in a coal bucket. As we arrived the owner had been ironing, Molly took one look at us and sauntered up the bright white sheet that was hanging over the edge of the ironing board, leaving a trail of tiny black footprints. Understandably enough, at the time, my mum prefered Minnie who slept soundly and peacefully in the basket and I was outvoted as my brother sided with her.
Needless to say, my Dad was least amused when he arrived home that night to find not one but TWO wide eyed kittens waiting for him. But I couldn’t have left her there, essentially by herself, the last kitten left. Come on, I couldn’t now could I?!
Her cheeky antics didn’t stop when we got her home, the first time we let them out on their own, we thought we’d lost them for quite a few frantic minutes until there they were, sitting comfortably on top of the bird table. Molly was a people‘s cat, she would instinctively seek out the non-cat-lover in a room full of strangers, climb on to their lap and instantly win them over.
She also had a bag of party tricks up her sleeve (or should that be, under her immensely preened mass of fur) of which begging for garlic bread, Twiglets and cider was her most famous. In fact the last time I saw Molly, Littleone made the mistake of laying her cheese and potato pasty down while she reached for her drink, it was demolished in a couple of seconds flat.
She had lost a disturbing amount of weight in recent months and only a small fraction of her vitality. Mum took her to the vets yesterday and was told that her kidneys were failing her to such an extent that he was surprised she was still climbing the stairs and chasing butterflies in the garden. We could have controlled it by pumping her full of pills, taking her for regular injections and putting her on a special diet (something tells me Molly would have hated this the most) but the vet made it clear that this would only be a matter of buying time and that her kidneys would consume her before long.
As mum and I were speaking on the phone pretending there was a decision to be made, Molly crept up and stole her last supper; a cold sausage that had been left on the worktop.
Both my mum and my brother were with Molly as she fell asleep for the last time at 3.30 yesterday afternoon, I would never have got there in time, but then I’m not very good at goodbyes anyway.
It seems strange to think that for the first time in 18 years, her special gap in the hedge where she sat watching the birds, will be empty and that her sister Minnie will be left alone after so long.
Posted by purple elephant at June 6, 2006 10:00 AM