It's been a hard good-bye. I didn't know I did love that cat so much until lately when she got sick.
She was always the epitome of the aloof kitty. She loved to sit and purr in your lap when she was a kitten, but as she got older, she just didn't seem to need people that much.
The day she came to live with us.
This was when we lived in Columbus, and I worked at home. She spent most of her day with me, sleeping and playing, and aggravating me.
She was never the only cat. We had Lili and Maddy and Raleigh when she came to live with us, and she did fine with them. They all co-existed nicely, but the one she really bonded with was Raleigh, this old yellow cat that Elise rescued from Pet Smart. He was a wreck, old, scruffy, and anxious with some health problems - but sweet. Stella loved him from the start and spent all her time with him.
This is what we learned to expect from her.
Then we lost Lili and then Raleigh and Maddy, and Stella had to welcome a dog into the family. Maddy never cared much for Darby and her bounciness, but Stella really did learn to get along with her. Darby had a healthy respect for those claws, and they could cuddle up - but only at Stella's convenience.
When we moved to Montgomery and Mama came to live with us, she and Mama
became best friends. Stella had someone she could trust to stay in the same place most of the time and who would talk to her and smother her with love. Mama didn't even like cats, but she really fell in love with Stella - but hated her name - so she renamed her Molly.
Every weekday after lunch, Mama would watch Days of our Lives and then lie down for a long nap. Stella/Molly would head to Mama's room when she heard that music, and the two of them would stay in there for hours sleeping.
The main thing Mama regretted when she went into the nursing home was not seeing Miss Molly every day. Her room was filled with pictures of her, and the staff had to hear endless stories of her.
When we decided to move here, we couldn't see how a dog and cat were going to fit into our plans to pick up all our belongings and move across the country, not even knowing where we were going to live. We luckily found a good home for Darby, but I didn't even really try to find anyone for Stella. We packed her up and headed to Washington, Mike driving the Penski truck and Stella and me following. She did great the whole time, sleeping on a rug on the front floor or under one of the back seats with only that one adventure in New Mexico, I think, where she got stuck under the seat and wouldn't come out.
Despite not having her grass and trees and Darby, she's done well. She never warmed up to the girls, to their constant sorrow, but she did as well as she could until the diabetes. It's been a long hard struggle and lots of soul-searching to know the right thing to do. Dr. Kent put up with a lot from me, wavering between, "Let's do everything we can to beat the diabetes," to "Let's just see how we can make her comfortable and let her eat food she likes," once we saw the diabetes was not going to be easy to get under control, to "We can't let her go on like this. It's just too sad to see her this way."
Back and forth, back and forth. Lots of guilt. Lots of tears. Until finally this last week when she just could not function, could not raise her head sometimes, could not use the litter box, could not bathe herself, could not get enough water and enough to eat. At some point, I knew it was unfair to treat a beautiful proud kitty that way, and I was at peace this morning when I said good-bye to her. Not that it was easy. Oh, Lord, no. It wasn't. It will take a long time to get over it, but I feel like it was the best thing.
This is what we learned to expect from her.
Then we lost Lili and then Raleigh and Maddy, and Stella had to welcome a dog into the family. Maddy never cared much for Darby and her bounciness, but Stella really did learn to get along with her. Darby had a healthy respect for those claws, and they could cuddle up - but only at Stella's convenience.
When we moved to Montgomery and Mama came to live with us, she and Mama
became best friends. Stella had someone she could trust to stay in the same place most of the time and who would talk to her and smother her with love. Mama didn't even like cats, but she really fell in love with Stella - but hated her name - so she renamed her Molly.
Every weekday after lunch, Mama would watch Days of our Lives and then lie down for a long nap. Stella/Molly would head to Mama's room when she heard that music, and the two of them would stay in there for hours sleeping.
The main thing Mama regretted when she went into the nursing home was not seeing Miss Molly every day. Her room was filled with pictures of her, and the staff had to hear endless stories of her.
When we decided to move here, we couldn't see how a dog and cat were going to fit into our plans to pick up all our belongings and move across the country, not even knowing where we were going to live. We luckily found a good home for Darby, but I didn't even really try to find anyone for Stella. We packed her up and headed to Washington, Mike driving the Penski truck and Stella and me following. She did great the whole time, sleeping on a rug on the front floor or under one of the back seats with only that one adventure in New Mexico, I think, where she got stuck under the seat and wouldn't come out.
Despite not having her grass and trees and Darby, she's done well. She never warmed up to the girls, to their constant sorrow, but she did as well as she could until the diabetes. It's been a long hard struggle and lots of soul-searching to know the right thing to do. Dr. Kent put up with a lot from me, wavering between, "Let's do everything we can to beat the diabetes," to "Let's just see how we can make her comfortable and let her eat food she likes," once we saw the diabetes was not going to be easy to get under control, to "We can't let her go on like this. It's just too sad to see her this way."
Back and forth, back and forth. Lots of guilt. Lots of tears. Until finally this last week when she just could not function, could not raise her head sometimes, could not use the litter box, could not bathe herself, could not get enough water and enough to eat. At some point, I knew it was unfair to treat a beautiful proud kitty that way, and I was at peace this morning when I said good-bye to her. Not that it was easy. Oh, Lord, no. It wasn't. It will take a long time to get over it, but I feel like it was the best thing.
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