Gotcha Date: May 2nd 1998 Birthday: February 21st 1998 Coloration: Chocolate Point Likes: Being with her sister, Samsara. Before Misha died, being with Misha. Belly rubs are great too. Pet-Peeves: New cats in the house; visiting dogs. Favorite Toy: Mommy. Chasing a rope. Favorite Nap Spot: Mommy's lap. Favorite Food: Pasta al Pesto; if there isn't any, then cat food, please! Skills: Letting Mommy know if there's some sort of problem. Dwells:
indoors Arrival Story: I got Marrakech and her half-sister, Samsara, shortly after Misha's buddies, Cappuccino and B.A. died within a month of each other. I wasn't really ready for another cat, but Misha was so lonely it became clear that if I didn't get him a companion I would be putting his health at risk.
Misha could be testy around new animals, so I opted for Siamese because of their rambunctious personalities. I couldn't have been more right. Within the space of a week, Misha accepted the kittens. He gave up trying to intimidate them because they just kept coming back for more. Bio: Marrakech was a spunky, smart, elfin-like little cat. This tiny little girl was my honey and the alpha cat of the household. After her life-long mate, Misha, died she liked nothing better than being with her Mommy. She would sleep for hours in my lap while I was on Catster, and spend the rest of her waking hours figuring out newer and better ways to get picked up, carried around and loved. She freely returned all those hugs and kisses. ---------------------------------- ---------------------------------- ---------------------------------- ----
Marrakech spent her last years in battle against chronic, debilitating asthma. She suffered two respiratory collapses and subsequent hospitalizations in the last year of her life: the first, in May 2010 and then again in August 2010. Between August 2010 and March 2011, she needed to be repeatedly treated for bronchial infections and UTIs. Even through the endless rounds of meds administered every 12 hours: she always remained the spry little imp, interested in everything going on around her. ---------------------------------- ---------------------------------- ---------------------------- Her body just couldn’t handle that last infection—the antibiotics were no longer effective and over the last week of her life, her condition deteriorated to the point at which she had to choose between breathing and eating. She stopped eating. It was probably the hardest decision I will ever need to make, I helped my baby to the bridge in the early afternoon of March 16, 2011. She had just reached her 13th birthday. Rest in peace, my sweet angel. Forums Motto: When in doubt, act cute! The Groups I'm In: *Senior Kitties Still Young @ Heart*, ------Siamiese lovers-------, FANCYPANTS CAFE, Calling All Chefs, cats with asthma, For The Meezers!, Muppet's Bucket (HQ-approved fundraiser), New York City Cat Lovers, Olde Furts, Pawsome Pages, Purr It Forward, SIAMESE LOVERS Around the World Act II The Last Forum I Posted In: Help my cat is dying. Philosophy: People who belong to Siamese cats must make up their minds to do a good deal of waiting upon them."- Compton Mackenzie
Motto: Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, offer no angles to the wind. They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholes less than themselves.
- A. S. J. Tessimond
My precious little darling, Marrakech, today marks six months since you left me. Where did the time go? And why does it still hurt so much?
It’s so hard to believe you’re gone. Every now and so often I see a little white cat out of the corner of my eye and I turn around to greet you and you’re not there.
I’m trying to be brave and smile when I remember the things we did together: how you helped me take the photos of the two of us; the Houdini act you pulled on me, disappearing when you didn’t want to take your cherry yuckies; how your world was complete when you were in my arms; how my world was complete when you were in my arms; how you used to pat me on the nose every night just before we both went to sleep.
They say that comfort centers around food—it still feels so strange that there’s no one to share my pasta al pesto or my rice salad with. (I’m still amazed. The salad has so many ingredients. How did you always know when it was ready? Mieeeeuw! Give me some!) It feels even stranger buying “Drumstrick” flavor ice-cream with peanuts and fudge in it.
What to say? I miss you so much, Baby Doll. The day you went to the Bridge heaven reclaimed an angel.
I wasn’t ready to adopt after Misha’s buddies went to the bridge, but Misha had a really hard time with being an only kitty. At a friend’s urging, I wrapped my head around getting a new kitten for him, preferably a female—I guessed that he might accept her more easily. My prayers were answered at the end of April by an upstate New York private breeder who was asking a very reasonable sum for her Siamese kittens. I always wanted a Siamese.
I wanted only one—or so I thought. “Just in case”, though, I withdrew enough cash from the bank for two. Hah! What an excuse—I guess I really wanted two kittens and I was just kidding myself. The only thing I knew for sure was I didn’t know if I wanted a chocolate point or a seal point. And I knew that I was making a leap of faith by adopting a female kitty. In the years leading up to this decision, I had yet to meet a female kitty that didn’t come after me, hackles up and claws bared. Girl kitties were so hostile to me it was comical. I have a confession to make--I almost didn’t get Marrakech; I wanted her brother.
The breeder wouldn’t let me have Keshy’s brother. He was the only chocolate point male in her two litters, and Keshy’s father, her only chocolate point stud had recently gone to the bridge. She had already ‘ear-marked’ that kitten as her new sire. Perhaps I thought Marrakech’s brother was the prettiest one in the two litters, or perhaps he was the most rambunctious; I kept choosing him quite by accident.
I finally narrowed my choices down to the two girls. I still didn’t know if I wanted a chocolate-point or seal-point. The breeder suggested that: 1. I get both, (yes, very helpful indeed), 2. an older cat wouldn’t be interested in playing with kittens, and 3. the kittens were already bonded so they would have each other.
Fast forward: the girls’ welcome home ‘party‘ and my dad and I had a demon in a black and white fur coat on our hands--Misha. The kittens were terrified. Dad and I stood there giggling and trying to pick them off each other’s sweaters; each time we would get one detached the other would dig in. They lived in the bathroom for a week while they waited for Misha to calm down.
I just found a copy of some follow-up e-mail correspondence with the breeder, dated 5/9/98. Among other things, I wrote, “…they’ve been completely accepted by my cat. He’s even participating in their chase games. Now if I could only get them to stop having mock fights on top of my body at 3 in the morning…”
Today is a bittersweet day for me as I think back on all the happy years Marrakech and I spent together. I wouldn’t have missed them for the world!
I still can’t believe Keshy is gone. I know I’m in not alone in my mourning, but I take no solace from the company. I feel very deeply for each family that has lost a “fur baby”. What a rough month it’s been for everyone.
Oh, how my heart aches for my baby. The first couple of weeks I wavered between trying to catch my breath and wanting to go into that mirror in the photograph to rescue her. All the while, I was thinking “Oh my lord, the schnootzie monster got the baby! He took the baby!”
Then, of course, I’ve had to deal with the inevitable: the unfounded, intolerable guilt that I felt. The first, the one that looms largest, is betrayal… that last trusting look from her beautiful blue eyes. Her eyes were so full of her love for me one minute, and so miserable with her pain the next. I’m sure I will never forget those last moments. If only… I had recognized a year ago, that her nasal discharge wasn’t just asthma… If only I hadn’t adopted Colette the last infection would never have been introduced into the house. (Could she have known that this new cat meant her own demise?) If only… If only… If only… Of course, I recognize that some of those “if onlys” wouldn’t have been fair to me or the girls, and the others could only have been foretold by someone with perfect ability to see into the future.
I’m functioning better, but I’m still having those times when everything is fine one moment, and the next moment it’s not fine any more. I’m either bursting into tears or going into a deep funk. Those idle moments when you’re caught completely off guard are the hardest. I’m not one who usually gives in to public display, and yet, there was the one time, early on, that I was sitting in the subway station waiting for the train, finding myself trying to choke back the sobs.
Okay, enough. I didn’t set out to write this. I’m not sure what I wanted to write, but it wasn’t this.
This last month has been a month of learning for me. I learned just how head-over-heels in love I had been with my beautiful girl over the past 12 years. I’ll never forget that and I’ll never forget how blessed I was to have had her with me. I have also learned how loving and giving everyone is. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without all of you. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! Even if talking it out sometimes caused more pain, you all have helped me immeasurably. (Buddy: I have a confession to make. I broke down just after replying to your message about the gang going out for “heavenly ice cream”. You couldn’t have known it, but ice cream [especially vanilla] was the only human junk food Marrakech ever craved.)
A couple of other thank you’s I still needed to address, and didn’t know quite who to address them to.
Thank you:
Olde Furts group for the condolences and the Power of the Paws.
Anonymous for the condolences and the Power of the Paws.
(Marrakech might have started to wonder about “A Nony Mouse”. I’m sure there’s a nony mouse hiding out there somewhere.)
And…. I have a sneaky suspicion that some very kind, very quiet, kitty slipped us about 20 zealies. It wasn’t the time of month when our account gets credited, and, all of a sudden, our balance doubled! I was in too much of a funk to register that piece of information properly at the time. Maybe Keshy sprinkled some Angel Dust and sent down some Manna from Heaven? Hmmmm…. Thank you! They really came in handy.
Thank you Skye, for the beautiful commemorative embroidered towel your Mom made.
Thank you Tabbies o Trout Town for the “The Best of the Magazine Markets for Writers” book and Ashlynne and Beeper’s Mom and Finney, Lacey and Alex’s Mom for encouraging me to write. Now I better get cracking and start working on some material. Something to work hard at and dream about—getting published.
A last thank you to Regina who is not a Caster—she’s a new-found friend, part of an e-mail circle with the girls’ “Auntie Samantha”. Among many other things, Regina is a talented artist. Shortly after Marrakech went to the bridge, Regina saw her Catster page and fell deeply in love with her. She painted her portrait and sent it to me as a gift. What I find so striking is while Regina painted from a photo of Kesh I took in February what she produced is an exact likeness of her at 6 months old.
Over the next few days I’m going to be framing the portrait, photographing it and displaying it on her page. Skye, I’ll also be photographing your towel and displaying it there equally proudly—it is lovely.
