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love me when I am gone
Aug. 2nd, 2007 11:29 amYesterday my mother had a panic attack, she said. She was on the verge of tears, sure that something bad was about to happen. She wondered if she should call her mother. When she came home from work, she found Rachel curled up strangely under the desk and she knew. It was perhaps a stroke. She has been sick for some time, and was very thin.
I got Rachel when I was about fourteen or fifteen. I hadn't had a cat for years after my last one died. One day at the clinic they ended up with this incredibly dirty little kitten. It wasn't until they bathed her that they saw the white underbelly, and her calico coat. She was tiny and fuzzy. When my mother brought her home to me, the girls at the clinic had tied a bow around her neck that was almost as big as she was. It was impossible not to love her from the start. She was a fluffy, pretty thing. I always joke that Rachel looks like the kind of cat a ten year old girl with canopy bed and Laura Ashley princess bedding would have. Rachel was slightly odd. She liked it when you tugged a little on her tail. She would pull away and then run back purring. She liked it when you pulled her across the tile floor. Around strangers she was skittish, and when another cat or dog annoyed her she could produce an astounding array of warbling and howling sounds. I don't think she ever learned that's why Jacks would jump on her so much, because she kept making those sounds.
On the drive to Cedar Park, I got lost dealing with the toll roads and strange new things. I don't have much reason to go to Cedar Park on a regular basis. I was almost hysterical in the car, afraid that I wouldn't make it in time. I'd run out of work, where I haven't managed a full day all week. When I saw my mother left two messages on my phone, I just thought someone had alread died. I would have made an LJ voice post, but I kept getting "invalid login" over and over until I threw the phone at my passenger window.
She waited for me, I think. When My mother opened the side door, she was holding my kitty wrapped up in a towel from home. When I started to pet her, she was purring. I held her for maybe ten minutes close to my chest, petting her and talking to her. She faded fast. She tried to get up, and made a few sad cries. Her breath was shallow and quick. I think she was gone even before Dr. Schmidt gave her the injection. My mother and sister were there. Jenney's going to make me a little paw print from her white feet to keep. My mother is going to arrange a private cremation, and I have to decide what to do with her ashes. (Oh if I had several thousand dollars of disposable income I would make her into a diamond and then have Kythryne set her into a piece of jewelry.)
I am so achingly sad. Godspeed Rachel, to wherever you must go. I hope you're alright.
I got Rachel when I was about fourteen or fifteen. I hadn't had a cat for years after my last one died. One day at the clinic they ended up with this incredibly dirty little kitten. It wasn't until they bathed her that they saw the white underbelly, and her calico coat. She was tiny and fuzzy. When my mother brought her home to me, the girls at the clinic had tied a bow around her neck that was almost as big as she was. It was impossible not to love her from the start. She was a fluffy, pretty thing. I always joke that Rachel looks like the kind of cat a ten year old girl with canopy bed and Laura Ashley princess bedding would have. Rachel was slightly odd. She liked it when you tugged a little on her tail. She would pull away and then run back purring. She liked it when you pulled her across the tile floor. Around strangers she was skittish, and when another cat or dog annoyed her she could produce an astounding array of warbling and howling sounds. I don't think she ever learned that's why Jacks would jump on her so much, because she kept making those sounds.
On the drive to Cedar Park, I got lost dealing with the toll roads and strange new things. I don't have much reason to go to Cedar Park on a regular basis. I was almost hysterical in the car, afraid that I wouldn't make it in time. I'd run out of work, where I haven't managed a full day all week. When I saw my mother left two messages on my phone, I just thought someone had alread died. I would have made an LJ voice post, but I kept getting "invalid login" over and over until I threw the phone at my passenger window.
She waited for me, I think. When My mother opened the side door, she was holding my kitty wrapped up in a towel from home. When I started to pet her, she was purring. I held her for maybe ten minutes close to my chest, petting her and talking to her. She faded fast. She tried to get up, and made a few sad cries. Her breath was shallow and quick. I think she was gone even before Dr. Schmidt gave her the injection. My mother and sister were there. Jenney's going to make me a little paw print from her white feet to keep. My mother is going to arrange a private cremation, and I have to decide what to do with her ashes. (Oh if I had several thousand dollars of disposable income I would make her into a diamond and then have Kythryne set her into a piece of jewelry.)
I am so achingly sad. Godspeed Rachel, to wherever you must go. I hope you're alright.