Waking up the first morning of a new reality. That.
Today is my second day. I lost her on Friday. My Sorella. Sorellina. Principessa. My best friend. A brushy grey little ball of fur on white paws and a tail like a waiving plume. The cutest face. And the most adorable cat the world has ever seen.
Sorella (which means sister in Italian) and her brother Piccolo (he was so tiny) moved in with me when Trouble 2 moved out. I needed a family. When the siblings became sexually mature Sorella didn’t tolerate her brother any more and Piccolo moved in with Trouble 1. A perfect solution.
Sorella and I didn’t have the best of starts. The two little kittens left their mom and seven other cats jam-packed in a one bedroom apartment. The switch to a large house in two floors was overwhelming. Those little creatures were totally lost and so unsafe, especially Sorella. I can still feel the pain that first August evening, trying to make them tuck themselves in on my couch under the blanket with me. Sorella crawled away in-under the couch and I couldn't reach her. For the longest time she was afraid of my hands and me and I felt like the worst of mothers, I couldn’t even make the tiniest kitten safe. My self confident as a human being was at the very bottom.
Eventually she started seeking my company. At the breakfast table - which I of course let her since I was so flattered. At my desk. It suited her well since I needed to be working and wouldn’t bother her that much. I waited her out and with time she chose me. And she wanted me to herself. Never really liked when there was people around. Her behaviour became more like a dog. She followed me around the house. To start with I found it really annoying. I got used to it though and it changed to be something nice that I appreciated.
Sorella has been my companion for eleven years. With me through all the difficulties and every life change. She has listened to my cries and seen my tears. Been happy for me (I think) when things have gone well. I’ve shared everything with her and she has been a patient listener. Mostly quiet herself.
I’ve been dreading the day I would loose her. That’s eventually bound to happen. This fall I’ve been worried about her. She hasn’t been up to speed. Her behaviour changed. I think. Or was I paranoid? Out of fear of loosing her.
On Friday morning something was definitely wrong. I needed to get her to the vet. I called my friend Cathrine who lives a couple of villages from here and luckily she could help me out.
The vet was as adorable as Sorella. So compassionate. When the labs were back he delivered the result. As I expected, he said, it is a kidney failure. That’s actually the precis words as he was Irish and we spoke English. His name was Oliver.
I’m so sorry, he continued, but we have to put her to rest.
That’s what I had been thinking all morning. The worst case scenario. I was prepared. I hade been preparering all fall. I had already showered her with gratitude for wanting to share her life with me and everything she does for me. But you are never prepared.
She was sedated from the examination. Wrapped in a blanket to keep warm. On my lap while waiting for the labs. I had buried my fingers in her long fur, feeling her breathing and warm body. Knowing it might be the last time.
On the table again she opened her eyes. They looked dim. I caressed her flaggy fur and beautiful face. Thanked her again. Oliver walked me through the procedure. Then he gave her the injections. Checked her breathing. Listened to her heart. Is she gone, I asked. He nodded.
I hugged him. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I am so sorry, he said again. I think she had a good life. Oliver.
My hands were on her body all the way home. Fingers in her fur. The sun shining. I am so happy it was. Cathrine driving. A rock. She is an animal person with her own kennel. I couldn’t have had a better person at my side this day.
Back home I lied down on my couch. I placed Sorella at my chest. In my arms. Her face and nose to my neck. We lay there as the sun set behind Dry Mountain. I talked to her. Buried my face in her fur. That stillness. Her body not warm anymore. Flaccid. I sang to her. My favourite evening hymn. I sang to her. I sang to me. I sang to us. And I cried.
I know it all might sound morbide, but it was the right thing for me to do.
Cathrine was back when the room was dark. She had been home seeing to her six dogs. For the last time I told Sorella we had to move. To get up from the couch.
I found a beautiful brown cloth of plush in my fabric storage. Lighting the candles on the dining table in my yellow kitchen we placed Sorella on the plush. I kissed her adorable face one last time. Thanked her one last time. I said my goodbye. Bid her my farewell. My love. She wasn’t flaccid anymore. We wrapped her in the cloth. It matched her colors. And put her in a box Cathrine brought. It was the perfect size.
Then Cathrine made me dinner before she returned to her dogs. I was by myself.
A week ago I felt such contentment. I was good. Finally filling my house up all by myself. Happy in every room, even my yellow kitchen. But I had forgotten about Sorella. My companion. We were such a happy couple. I haven’t been by myself. Now I am. And my rooms are all empty.
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