Thursday, September 1, 2016

My Sweet Cat Grace—what I miss so far

My little (petite) 22 year old kitty, Grace, passed away in May. She has been the only cat (present 2 included) who drank milk. I put goat’s milk in my coffee every morning and I always gave her some, too. Toward the end, many times a day.

Grace stopped eating much dry food so I also have tons of wet food for this picky eater. Now, day one without her, I opened a small can this morning and now this evening, half is still there. With Grace, I might have gone through 2 or 3 different cans trying to get her to eat something she liked. Jax & Jez will basically eat anything, so they would always eat what Grace didn’t want.

I like not having a food station in my bedroom. I eventually put G’s food on the nightstand on the side of the bed where she sleeps. Water, a small amount of dry food in case she got hungry in the middle of the night, and wet food or milk.

Tonight, night one with her out of the house, I have “heard” her cry and heard her walking around several times today. I’ve habitually gone to look in on her only to realize half way to the bedroom that she’s no longer there. Still, I’d go lay where she used to lay and shed a few tears and give thanks to her for everything she gave me, for every little thing she was.

I usually write (on my laptop) on my couch in the living room. Several times a day—a dozen if I’m home most of the day writing—she would come in and look for me to go feed her. But sometimes she would come in, I’d give her food, but what she really wanted was love and attention.

During the last 6 months or so of her sweet life I started giving her what I called Love Sessions. Periodically throughout the day I’d stop what I was doing and go in and give her love and pets and rubs and attention. I did this knowing she wouldn’t be around forever and I wanted to be sure I loved on her as much as time allowed. In hidesight I’m glad I had the inspiration to do this because now, with her gone, I don’t feel I left anything on the table. I played all the cards and gave her everything I could up until the very end. I don’t have any regrets; no would-a, should-a, could-a’s; no feeling bad about skipping something or not giving her tons of love and affection. When she was younger, I couldn’t give her love—she wouldn’t have it. But over these last few years, to my delight, she became more and more receptive to the magic power of love.

Apparently I was taking care of her more than I even realized. When I walk through my front door, my first instinct is to put down whatever is in my hands and go check on her in the bedroom. Same when I’m in the bathroom. I had a bird’s eye view of her if I cracked the adjoining door open. I would always see her ears sticking up even though she was usually sleeping. Or I would see her standing up looking at the door to the bedroom, waiting for me to come tend to her.

It’s so interesting to me how simple life has become since Grace—and Quincy, too—has passed. Each in their own way had multiple issues that required specific care. And now, with them both gone, I am starting to realize how much time and attention they required. And I miss giving all that time and attention to them—multiplied.

For more articles on the amazing and long life of kitty Grace, see: