Diaries I Read:
When I was about two or three years old, a kitten named Carroll wandered into our lives, and my mom let me keep him. She even let me name him. I named him Carol, after my favorite babysitter�s twin sister. My mom informed me that I couldn�t name him Carol because he was a boy cat, to which I insisted that he was NOT a boy and that his name most certainly was CAROL. I was a rather stubborn child, and my mom knew better than to argue, so he remained Carroll, spelled with two Rs and two Ls since apparently that�s how Carroll O�Conner (I don�t even know who that is) spells his name, and he�s a boy too.
Anyway, we had Carroll for a while, and he was a good cat. He must not have been that old, though, when he developed some problems and we had to have him put to sleep. It was very sad, and there�s more to the story, but this story isn�t really about Carroll.
When Carroll died, my dad told us that he didn�t want to get another cat for a while. I had developed fairly serious allergies and asthma, and I was allergic to cats, and he thought it would be a good idea for us to see how well I could do without a cat in the house. We all agreed. None of us was planning on rushing out to replace Carroll anyway. You can�t replace pets like that.
I think it was the very next day, however, when we were taking my grandmother to the airport and we stopped by the grocery store. It was summertime and I was about 10 years old. My brother was five. Right outside the grocery store were two little kids sitting there with three tiny kittens in a box. They were all different � grey and black and white, and one little calico. We fell in love instantly.
My mother was torn. She knew she shouldn�t, but the kittens WERE adorable, and I�m sure my brother and I nearly broke her heart with our begging. So she got the kids� phone number, and I think the deal she made was that if, when we got back from the airport, any of the kittens were left, we might be able to get one.
I really don�t remember all the details, but it ended up that, at the end of the day, the calico kitten hadn�t been adopted. So we went to the house to get her. The house was right next to the pool where my brother swam his very first year on the swim team. I remember holding her as we walked into the pool area to drop my brother off, and she got scared and poked her little claw into my neck.
My mom told us not to tell our dad right away, because she needed time to prep him for the news that we�d gone against his wishes and gotten another cat. He called home from work that evening and my brother answered the phone. When my dad asked what he was doing, he answered, �Playing with the new kitten.� His response when he spoke to my mom: �Well, I guess the cat�s out of the bag.� If he was mad about it, I don�t remember it. I think he knew there was no going back after his kids had already fallen in love with the kitten.
We named her almost immediately. But there was a bit of an argument first. My brother wanted to name her Rags. I wanted to name her Muffin. So she became Ragmuffin. It was perfect for a little calico cat. Later, she became Princess Ragmuffin Sally. We mostly called her Rags, though (so I guess my brother won).
She was a very pretty cat. At first, she had really big ears � people would even comment on them � but eventually she grew into them. She really was beautiful. A lot of calico cats are sort of ugly, but Rags wasn�t. Her coloring was so pretty � her legs, stomach, and face were mostly white, and then she had the black, orange, and brown all over. Around one eye, her fur was brown, and around the other eye it was black. She had a very pink nose and pink pads on the bottoms of her feet. Her bottom lip was half pink and half black. I memorized that her left lower lip was black, just in case I ever had to identify her in a cat-napping or something. At the top of two of her legs, right at the joint, was a small brown circle of fur. We called them her bolts. It was like they were holding her legs on to her body.
To tell you the truth, for the first few years we had Rags, she wasn�t that great of a cat. Apparently, her mother had been a wild cat, and it was obvious that Rags had inherited some of her wild ways. She wasn�t a bad cat; she just wasn�t all that loving. She didn�t really like to cuddle up with you or curl up in your lap. She was off doing her own thing. She definitely ruled the neighborhood. She got in fights with other cats quite often. She was one tough cookie � I don�t think many cats wanted to mess with her.
Then we got another kitten. His name was Rocky. His story is a good one, but it�s for another time. Rags HATED Rocky. She would hiss and spit at him, and she generally just hated having him around. Unfortunately, Rocky was hit by a car before he was even a year old. As much as Rags had disliked him, though, I think she was a little sad when he was gone. I also think that she actually witnessed the accident, and that may have shaken her up a little.
Anyway, the point is that after Rocky was gone, Rags changed. It was a 360-degree turn. It was like she was a different cat altogether. She was much more loving, much more affectionate. She became a wonderful cat.
And she has been a wonderful cat for years and years and years. She�s been around for Rocky and two dogs that have since passed away. She�s been with us since my brother was five years old and in his first year of swimming! She was around when I graduated from junior high, high school, when I graduated college, when I earned my Master�s degree, and when I got married! She was around when my brother graduated from elementary school! She has been a part of our lives for what seems like forever.
For the past few years, she�s started to show her age. She shrunk down to about half of her size. Literally. The last time we weighed her, she was only six pounds! You�d pick her up and it was like picking up a feather. People would come by the house and ask if she was a kitten � they�d be quite surprised when we said she was 18 years old!
A few times, we�ve thought that Rags was on her last leg. She developed a thyroid problem, and we had her on medication for a while. She ate ALL THE TIME � I�m not kidding � and she was still so tiny. I don�t know where she put all the food. Then recently it seemed like she�d lose her equilibrium a bit, and she wasn�t able to jump up on the counters like she used to. Oh, and she started peeing all over the house for a while. That was pleasant.
But every time we thought she was nearing the end, she�d surprise us and bounce back. One day we�d think we were going to have to put her to sleep, and the next day she�d be jumping onto the bed like she was a year old. And she never lost her attitude. Even though she was old, I think she was still the queen cat of the neighborhood. Every time it looked like maybe she was nearing the end, she�d come through, and I started saying that she was probably going to outlive us all.
I�m making it sound like she was a sickly cat, though. She really wasn�t. Over the past year or so, she scared us a few times, but all in all, she was pretty healthy and spry, especially for how old she was. Over the past couple of years, she�s traveled across country in the car with my parents from here to Florida and back and spent her time at the lake house with them. Every morning when she heard my dad�s boat returning from his fishing trip, she�d run down and meet him at the end of the dock. That reminds me � she knew the sound of my car, and whenever I pulled up to the house as I came home, she�d come scampering out of the bushes, or wherever she was, to meet me. She even kept doing that after I got married and moved out and didn�t come home every day like I used to.
Yesterday, Rags died.
She was with my parents and dog on their way back to Florida. They were in Louisiana. Apparently, she had decided that, when she wasn�t in my dad�s lap, she liked to sleep in the back of the car in her litter box (lovely, I know). They looked back at her and thought she didn�t look right, that something was wrong. They were near a church, and the people there told them there was a vet up the road. They went there, where the vet did everything he could, even bringing her back a couple of times when she stopped breathing. But after several hours, it was just over.
I didn�t know I�d be this sad about it. But I really am. She was a good cat. We all loved her. And she�s just been around forever. And it just isn�t going to be the same now. She�s been around for every Christmas, every birthday, every day for 18 years. Since I was 10 years old. That�s my whole life. She�s just always been there.
I know I shouldn�t be sad because she had a really good life, and she was loved every day, and we were so lucky to have her around for so long. We didn�t deserve to get to keep her for so long. It�s just going to be a hole in our lives that I think we�re going to feel for quite a while.
I�m so glad we had her for the time that we did. She blessed us and brightened our lives in ways we probably don�t even realize. And I�m glad she went the way she did. She didn�t suffer, and she went on her own; we didn�t have to make the decision to let her go. She spent her last few days in my parents� laps, spending all day together in the car that becomes a very intimate little world while they travel. She had a really good life.
We�re all really going to miss her.
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004