RIP: Lucy ca.1995-2009
Lucy... Lucy-fur... little mouse... Jenn's cat, who adopted me as soon as we met.
First real memory I have of her, she wandered up to me, and started pawing at my knee. (She was declawed, I have no doubt she would've been shredding my jeans otherwise.)
Second memory, not very long after that one: Jenn and I had driven from Atlanta to her grandmother's (where Lucy was staying at the time). Since we drove straight through, we were both extremely tired. Jenn's grandmother gave us her bed for the night, which we gratefully accepted. Now, this was just after we had been robbed in our own apartment in Atlanta, so we were a bit on-edge. We're getting comfortable and falling asleep... when *WHAM* the bedroom door slams open. Jenn gasps, then starts laughing. I turn over and look... and there's Lucy, silhouetted in the doorframe. She looks around a bit, then wanders off.
Typical cat.
She was never a cuddly cat... I'd pick her up to get fuzz-therapy, but she'd almost immediately struggle to get out of my arms. And then paw at my leg for petting.
She'd regularly sleep next to my head while I was sleeping. If it was chilly, she'd paw at my blankets, demanding that she'd get under them. I'm just a heat source, after all...
There was that (fortunately brief) period of time where she'd like to sniff my eyes while I was trying to sleep. I'd get a fisheyed-lens view of HUGE CAT NOSE if I opened my eyes.
She was a damn good cat. Never annoying, always quiet... always cat like.
I was starting to come to terms with the fact that she was getting old, though. Never very active, she was getting even more sedintary. Then there was the issue with her getting nosebleeds in late September, before I went on vacation. I took her to the vet, they prescribed some pills, and I arranged to have her boarded while I was gone.
I don't know what it was... the medication, the stress of being boarded for a week... but she wasn't the same when I brought her home. She didn't sleep in bed anymore... in fact, she spent most of her time in the bathroom, where the litterbox is. She started having problems walking. She started having problems keeping herself clean.
She was thirteen and a half... a good age for a cat. I made the hard decision to have her put down on October 17th.
I got her ashes back... I still need to figure out what to do with them. I don't want to get a mass-produced urn or other vessel... she meant a lot to me, and I'd like something that represents that.
Nearly a month later, and I'm working on moving on. Its quieter in the house, which is odd, since she wasn't a very loud cat. Ricky has gotten a lot more cuddly and needy, which is to be expected. I'm torn about getting another cat... Ricky really does need company, but I don't know where I'll be in six months, and having to work an additional cat (or two) into the mix doesn't seem like a good idea. I figure that, if the universe wants me to have another cat, it'll drop one on me (like it did with Ricky.)
First real memory I have of her, she wandered up to me, and started pawing at my knee. (She was declawed, I have no doubt she would've been shredding my jeans otherwise.)
Second memory, not very long after that one: Jenn and I had driven from Atlanta to her grandmother's (where Lucy was staying at the time). Since we drove straight through, we were both extremely tired. Jenn's grandmother gave us her bed for the night, which we gratefully accepted. Now, this was just after we had been robbed in our own apartment in Atlanta, so we were a bit on-edge. We're getting comfortable and falling asleep... when *WHAM* the bedroom door slams open. Jenn gasps, then starts laughing. I turn over and look... and there's Lucy, silhouetted in the doorframe. She looks around a bit, then wanders off.
Typical cat.
She was never a cuddly cat... I'd pick her up to get fuzz-therapy, but she'd almost immediately struggle to get out of my arms. And then paw at my leg for petting.
She'd regularly sleep next to my head while I was sleeping. If it was chilly, she'd paw at my blankets, demanding that she'd get under them. I'm just a heat source, after all...
There was that (fortunately brief) period of time where she'd like to sniff my eyes while I was trying to sleep. I'd get a fisheyed-lens view of HUGE CAT NOSE if I opened my eyes.
She was a damn good cat. Never annoying, always quiet... always cat like.
I was starting to come to terms with the fact that she was getting old, though. Never very active, she was getting even more sedintary. Then there was the issue with her getting nosebleeds in late September, before I went on vacation. I took her to the vet, they prescribed some pills, and I arranged to have her boarded while I was gone.
I don't know what it was... the medication, the stress of being boarded for a week... but she wasn't the same when I brought her home. She didn't sleep in bed anymore... in fact, she spent most of her time in the bathroom, where the litterbox is. She started having problems walking. She started having problems keeping herself clean.
She was thirteen and a half... a good age for a cat. I made the hard decision to have her put down on October 17th.
I got her ashes back... I still need to figure out what to do with them. I don't want to get a mass-produced urn or other vessel... she meant a lot to me, and I'd like something that represents that.
Nearly a month later, and I'm working on moving on. Its quieter in the house, which is odd, since she wasn't a very loud cat. Ricky has gotten a lot more cuddly and needy, which is to be expected. I'm torn about getting another cat... Ricky really does need company, but I don't know where I'll be in six months, and having to work an additional cat (or two) into the mix doesn't seem like a good idea. I figure that, if the universe wants me to have another cat, it'll drop one on me (like it did with Ricky.)