A Sad First Anniversary

Dear Abby Sweetie—

It’s now been a year since you went over the Rainbow Bridge. I miss you very much, my catgirl. You made my house a home for 11 years. Again, I thank you for all the time you gave me. I only wish we had more time together.

It was sad to go home that night with an empty kitty cage as you stayed lifeless at the hospital. It was upsetting to go home and not have you to greet me at the door as you did for so long. It was the first of many nights where I got little or no sleep because I miss you so much.

The next day was Thanksgiving, and I went to see my uncle and cousin for the day. I could hardly eat, but it was good to leave the house.

Friday came and I went to the hospital with two friends to pick you up. I went into a grieving room with you. I saw you in a box made to look like a bed with you asleep under the covers. I cried and cried, knowing that you would not wake up.

From the hospital, we went to the clinic you went to for all your routine care. The clinic workers made the afterlife arrangements. I picked out a black marble container with silver streaks for you and picked it up a week later. It is now in a special place in my house along with a favorite blanket, some of your collars and tags, a small photo album, letters and a checkup reminder for May 2005. I wish you were here to go to that checkup and others.

I didn’t like to go home because you’re not there anymore. I looked forward to going to work and found many other excuses to leave the house in the weeks that followed.

I visited Petco on Wednesdays after work when a shelter had cat adoptions. The shelter workers knew what was going on with me because they have gone through cat loss many times before; this was my first. The cats they had available were black or mostly black, and I cried whenever I saw those kitties. I saw you in all those black cats.

I was off from work for a few days before Christmas. In my travels away from home, I ended up at the cat shelter I once volunteered at to say hi to the kitties. I cried again when I saw the black ones. There was a Maine Coon mix cat named Lisa who watched everything I did. She enjoyed the attention I gave her.

For the rest of the month, I thought about Lisa. I went to her page at the shelter’s web site and printed it for myself.

Lisa was still at the shelter after New Year’s. I called the shelter to make the adoption appointment. I was hesitant to adopt a cat so soon, but Lisa cried out to me twice during my visit to take her away from the shelter and give her a home.

When I arrived at the shelter on January 9, Lisa went to the front of the large room to greet me and to listen to me. She remembered me. She knew I came to give her a home away from the shelter. After I filled out the adoption papers, she became my second kitty. With her long and fluffy striped hair, big paws and brown eyes, she looks different than you—which is what I wanted—but like you, she’s a playful, sweet, loving girl. She’s doglike in some ways, like when she follows me from room to room, and you’re all cat.

Although there are other cats in my life, no one will ever take your place.

There will be a time when we meet again. You’ll meet Lisa, who will wrap her big paws around you like the sister she never met; because after all, you are.

Love and purrs forever, Abby Baby, from your loving catmom

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