(no subject)
Thank you, so much, to all of you who responded about Arnold with your sympathies and kind words and hugs. I'm overwhelmed by all the support. I can't quite bring myself to respond to each of you individually right now, but I've read all your comments, many times, and though it makes me cry - of course, everything does, right now - knowing you're there, and that so many of you know and understand just what I'm feeling, makes such a difference. And I'd forgotten how many of you had met him, some of you many times - somehow that's comforting, that others remember him too.
I'm not doing particularly well, but I didn't expect anything else. Arnie was part of just about every day of my life for fifteen years. Almost every minute I was at home, for just about all my adult life, since I graduated from law school (he was my law school graduation gift to myself), he was with me - in my lap or next to me on the desk or on the bed; wherever I was, he was. If I was sitting at the computer, he was there. If I got up and went to another room, he followed me, even if he'd been sound asleep - trotting after me on his little bitty feet. If I went to the kitchen, there he was, waiting for his share - he ate like a goat, anything and everything, and for such a tiny guy he had an appetite that never stopped. He purred at the drop of a hat and slept under the covers curled against me. Until his later years, whenever he heard me come in the door he trotted down the stairs to meet me. When I picked him up and stroked him the way he liked, he was the happiest cat in the world.
For the last four years I've had to give him subcutaneous fluids every night or every other night, and for the past few months he's had to have Flovent for asthma, which he had to inhale through a special cat inhaler mask. He was always the best patient, trusting me totally, enduring everything I did to him patiently and then bouncing right back, looking for his treat, purring madly. He never struggled or fought or ran away. His kidney function was very poor when he was diagnosed four years ago; we never thought he'd make it this long. But he had an amazing will to live - he loved life, loved people, loved the other cats, and loved me, and was, as aerye said so well, a wonderful, happy, brave little soul, full of life and vitality and spirit, without a mean bone in his body, and as loving and faithful as an animal could be. He was that way from the moment I got him as a tiny, tiny, tiny little kitten (he was always a runt) so many years ago. I couldn't be more lucky than to have had him in my life for so long - and I will miss him forever. Working on CQ stuff distracts me, which is good, but as soon as I take a break or lose my focus, or look at the place where he usually sat, I just lose it. I can't tell if my other cats know what's going on; they don't seem upset, but Koko and Conan in particular have been around me quite a bit today, and it's nice. I love them all, they're wonderful cats - but my attachment to Arnold was on another level, and I don't know that I'll ever have that again.
I don't quite know what to do, what I want to do, to remember him. For horses it's typical to keep tail hair - I have a bracelet made of Griggs's tail hair, gorgeously woven by a woman who's revived the Victorian art of hair weaving (I decided I wanted it while he was still alive) - but you can't really weave a bracelet out of cat hair, though I did keep a bit of his. I decided I didn't want to keep his ashes; the vet hospital had an option to have him cremated with other pets, and their ashes are scattered over a farm in West Virginia, and I chose that. The hospital gave me a little clay imprint of his paw, and it has some of his little hairs in it - it makes me weep to look at it, but I'm so glad to have it.
For now, though, here are a few pictures of Arnie through the years.
As a tiny, runty, happy little kitten, three months old...I found these pictures earlier this year and scanned them, and posted them on his fifteenth birthday. He was a Valentine's kitty, born on February 14th - fitting for a cat with such a big heart.
With some of the others, looking sleek and happy
He loved the laptop, and he fit on it perfectly...
As he got older, he slept a lot more...he loved our house down in NC. We were just there last week, and he was so happy.
Last year we got Conan...he's Arnie's legacy, in a way; the only Burmese in the house now.
And this is one of the very last pictures I have of him, taken in the end of April.
If I'd known I'd have taken so many more...there's never, ever, ever enough time, is there?
I'm not doing particularly well, but I didn't expect anything else. Arnie was part of just about every day of my life for fifteen years. Almost every minute I was at home, for just about all my adult life, since I graduated from law school (he was my law school graduation gift to myself), he was with me - in my lap or next to me on the desk or on the bed; wherever I was, he was. If I was sitting at the computer, he was there. If I got up and went to another room, he followed me, even if he'd been sound asleep - trotting after me on his little bitty feet. If I went to the kitchen, there he was, waiting for his share - he ate like a goat, anything and everything, and for such a tiny guy he had an appetite that never stopped. He purred at the drop of a hat and slept under the covers curled against me. Until his later years, whenever he heard me come in the door he trotted down the stairs to meet me. When I picked him up and stroked him the way he liked, he was the happiest cat in the world.
For the last four years I've had to give him subcutaneous fluids every night or every other night, and for the past few months he's had to have Flovent for asthma, which he had to inhale through a special cat inhaler mask. He was always the best patient, trusting me totally, enduring everything I did to him patiently and then bouncing right back, looking for his treat, purring madly. He never struggled or fought or ran away. His kidney function was very poor when he was diagnosed four years ago; we never thought he'd make it this long. But he had an amazing will to live - he loved life, loved people, loved the other cats, and loved me, and was, as aerye said so well, a wonderful, happy, brave little soul, full of life and vitality and spirit, without a mean bone in his body, and as loving and faithful as an animal could be. He was that way from the moment I got him as a tiny, tiny, tiny little kitten (he was always a runt) so many years ago. I couldn't be more lucky than to have had him in my life for so long - and I will miss him forever. Working on CQ stuff distracts me, which is good, but as soon as I take a break or lose my focus, or look at the place where he usually sat, I just lose it. I can't tell if my other cats know what's going on; they don't seem upset, but Koko and Conan in particular have been around me quite a bit today, and it's nice. I love them all, they're wonderful cats - but my attachment to Arnold was on another level, and I don't know that I'll ever have that again.
I don't quite know what to do, what I want to do, to remember him. For horses it's typical to keep tail hair - I have a bracelet made of Griggs's tail hair, gorgeously woven by a woman who's revived the Victorian art of hair weaving (I decided I wanted it while he was still alive) - but you can't really weave a bracelet out of cat hair, though I did keep a bit of his. I decided I didn't want to keep his ashes; the vet hospital had an option to have him cremated with other pets, and their ashes are scattered over a farm in West Virginia, and I chose that. The hospital gave me a little clay imprint of his paw, and it has some of his little hairs in it - it makes me weep to look at it, but I'm so glad to have it.
For now, though, here are a few pictures of Arnie through the years.
As a tiny, runty, happy little kitten, three months old...I found these pictures earlier this year and scanned them, and posted them on his fifteenth birthday. He was a Valentine's kitty, born on February 14th - fitting for a cat with such a big heart.
With some of the others, looking sleek and happy
He loved the laptop, and he fit on it perfectly...
As he got older, he slept a lot more...he loved our house down in NC. We were just there last week, and he was so happy.
Last year we got Conan...he's Arnie's legacy, in a way; the only Burmese in the house now.
And this is one of the very last pictures I have of him, taken in the end of April.
If I'd known I'd have taken so many more...there's never, ever, ever enough time, is there?