Life In The Slow Lane

Over the years I’ve watched the Patterson family go through life’s ups and downs. I’ve watched them as they’ve aged, I’ve watched them as they’ve said good-bye to a loved one, I’ve shared their joys and their sadness.

Sometimes I have to keep reminding myself, “It’s only a cartoon.”

But it’s so close to home that everybody can relate.

Now, it seems, we’re saying good-bye to “For Better or For Worse” as we know it.

Good-bye my friends. I look forward to the next chapter in your life.

Sissy

2005 - Aug. 11, 2008

Good-Bye My Sweet Baby

Your Presence Will Be Sorely Missed

I said good-bye to Sissy for the last time at 8:25 p.m. last night. I took the day off from work because it was apparent she wasn’t going to make it through the day. She had been going downhill steadily since the previous weekend and nothing I could do could keep her from crossing The Rainbow Bridge.

She’s buried with her brothers and sisters in Pawprint Garden now - and she’s not suffering anymore.

The other cats - Holly, Tabu and Katie - know that Sissy isn’t here anymore. Tabu was looking for her this morning and couldn’t find her. I know, even though cats can’t talk, they miss her because she was a special kitty.

She was always the first one in line, making a mad dash to the kitchen when she heard the bag of treats being rustled. She didn’t do that in her last days and I knew this wasn’t my Sissy.

She didn’t like to cover her poopies after she used the litter box. Instead, she’d barrel out of the box and start sharpening her claws on the leg of the kitchen chair. I’ll remember her scratching every time I see those marks.

In her early days when she was just a kitten, she’d sit on my lap at the computer and paw at the moving things on the screen. Later she’d start sleeping on top of the monitor and then she’d sit on my laptop as I was trying to type and the newspaper as I was trying to read. Miss Inky Butt.

When she was young she’d always attack my feet under the covers. Then she stopped coming into bed with me. We slept together the last few days, knowing they really would be the last few days.

She was a sloppy eater, always shoving her food onto the floor as she tried to eat it. And a small watering bucket that I kept on the counter to water the plants was her “drinking bowl.” She’d reach her paw inside, bring it back out and covered with water and lick the water off. Then the paw would go back in and out, in and out, until she had quenched her thirst. I was going to put it in her burial box, along with the big bag of treats, her plate, a can of food and a toy. But I kept it on the counter and plan to use a black magic marker to stencil in “The Sissy D. Cat Memorial Watering Bucket.”

She liked to lay with the other cats, literally sleeping on half of their back. And when she slept by herself, she left remnants of her slumber. She had a wet belly from licking and some of her hair stuck to the room divider between the kitchen and the living room. It’s still there, a reminder of her sleeping spot.

I miss Sissy terribly, just as I missed the other cats who’ve been a part of my life. I only had her for three years, but she left an impression that’s hard to forget.

People say, “She was just a cat, get over it.” No, she wasn’t just a cat. Neither were Muffin, Jake, Kitty, Nicole or Patches, and neither are Tabu, Holly and Katie. They’re my family that greets me in the morning when I wake up and they’re my family that’s waiting for me when I get home from work. They’re my babies.

The house isn’t the same today and it’ll take time, as it always does, to move on.