Cashmere...In Loving Memory...

What is it about our pets that totally transforms the way we go at life? What is it about their companionship that makes it impossible to compare to anything else? Why is it that you either get it or you don't?! For what it's worth, I get it. I totally do.

I got my first cat when I was 9 years old and I can honestly say that it changed my life from day one. Days filled with cat hair, vet visits, litterbox cleanups, and pre-dawn wake-ups rained down on me (and my parents/brother) and helped mold that 9-year-old-me. My cat, affectionately known as cashmere, cashee, pumpkin face, brat, angel, and sweet face, has seen me through more of my life than most others. We have, quite literally, grown up together. I "put up" with her kitten stage---the constant crying (read: meowing), playfulness and, of course, mischievousness---and, in turn, she put up with my adolescence---meaning, mostly, that she had to endure dress-up, attempted cat-walks, and, perhaps, a (bit) of smothering! We've seen each other through sickness and pain---her years battling a serious case of fleas and ringworm meant hours bonding in the bathroom picking through until every last one was drowned in the toilet. I don't know many cats that would tolerate laying upside down while their mom picked, pulled, and prodded. I think deep down she must have known that it was for her own good. Of course, all that close contact meant that we shared the ringworm that she was infested with, and, I hardly cared. When I was sick, or in tears, my little pumpkin face was never far away. She was never huge with the cuddles, but she made exceptions at times like that and would often lick away my salty tears or lay near for hours, never fully closing her eyes as if keeping a constant watch. She saw me through my teenage years, and, although I wavered from moment to moment, she never did. Sometimes I would tell her I despised her as much as the rents--and sometimes, she was the only one I wanted to be around. One minute she was the target of my teenage angst and the next she was the only reason I wasn't running away in full blown teenage protest. And, in turn, I struggled through her own teenage protests. When she put her guts to the test and wondered beyond the security of home one day, I held on to me "Homeward Bound" fueled hopes while my parents scurried about (I didn't find out until later) with posters, reward promises, and fruitless searches. Nearly a week later as my parents were trying to find the heart to have the "she's-not-coming-home" talk with me, my little brat surfaced. She was found---a bit more dirty, humble and thin--but found! As my teenage moodiness faded into young-adult heartache, she was always there. She sat, she listened, she joined me for nights filled with ice cream and movies (so what if she only stayed because I shared my ice cream with her)! She saw me off to college and was always waiting for my return so she could once again wake me at 5am with her "play-with-me" meows.

As old age began taking it's toll, she went through an "I-forget-where-to-pee" stage---a stage which never phased me and which my dad graciously accepted without much fuss. Her kidneys needed convincing to stay strong which turned me and, in my absence, my dad, into expert kidney healers. When the call came that he thought her time was coming to a close---weight loss, weakness, lack of purring, we knew without hesitation that we wanted to send her off peacefully before the pain kicked in. And, although I'm at peace with it, a little piece of my heart has gone with my baby. I wish that I could have been there to kiss her little nose one last time---but, knowing that she was in good hands makes it easier to accept. Although I hate that dad had to go through the process alone, it's symbolic in ways---I remember so clearly the site of tiny, kitten, Cashmere in my dad's big, strong, hands----and, it puts my heart at ease visualizing her slipping peacefully away in the same hands that held her tiny body (nearly) 20 years before. And knowing that Dr. T and Jenna, the nurse and Doctor that I've come to know and love over the years, were there for her in her final moments fills my heart with relief.

It's amazing how much joy my fur-ball brought to my life. I'll never forget the day there was a meowing towel under the Christmas tree, when, in an instant, that meowing towel changed my life forever!!

You will never be forgotten Cashee!