Elly, A Memorial Post
When I adopted Elly from Being Kind in Petco in October 1997, she shared a cage with other litter mates, including Iphy. I knew I wanted two kittens and both of the same sex. I immediately picked out Iphy because she was a tortie. Elly was the other girl in the litter and a tiny, adorable little calico. Eric and I took them home to my apartment on Ave B in a carrier and on the way, I named them Iphy and Elly (Iphygenia and Electra Binewski...for the famed siamese twins in Geek Love) When I got home, I saw that Elly had had an accident. I felt horrible that her first experience in her new home was to bathe her. Anyone who has had one knows that kitten shit is REALLY gross and OF COURSE it was all over her back legs and she was such a puffy little thing. This was the first of MANY awkward, clutzy situations in her future and I swear helped shape her personality.
Iphy and Elly adapted well to my apartment and used to chase each other all over the place. It was a joy to watch them tear ass all over the place. But, within a week, Elly was sick and I had to take her on a vet appointment (this was after getting her shots so maybe it was within 2 weeks?). She had a bad cold and the vet warned me that with kittens, there was a chance she wouldn't make it. I medicated her, put her next to my pillow so that she'd sleep with me. I'd pet her as she fell asleep, feeling her heart beating and her slight purr. One night as I did this I thought to myself, "Elly is going to make it, but of the two, this will be the cat who will die first many years from now." She recovered within a week or so. Because I would give her love and extra attention when she made sniffing sounds, that became her "thing" when she wanted some loving throughout her life. Actually, all of the other cats ended up adopting this behavior. Iphy immediately, and later Onion when we moved to Brooklyn almost a year later, and finally Chick in 2001. It was all because Elly was sick as a kitten and learned that a sniff or snort would mean attention.
Elly soon developed into the kitten that could only TRY to do the crazy things her more agile sister was able to accomplish. Like climbing up into the cabinets. I have photos of Elly just staring up at Iphy, unable to jump on to the counter yet. She'd do things like sit in pots. She'd try and get in the fridge when I opened it. She liked to sit on the bottom shelf. We'd spell out T-A-R-D regularly, laughing at her silliness.
She soon became a long haired diva within a few months, with the craziest, longest and poofiest tail (even the vet remarked on her tail last week). A diva who was prone to the clutziest behavior and getting herself into awkward situations. She had an "issue" getting used to all of her long hair when it came to uh, relieving herself, she'd do the "scooting" around the apartment (it was awful wall to wall carpeting), dragging her butt on the floor. Once I clipped her "butt hair," however, she was so outraged that this barely ever happened again.
When we moved to Brooklyn, we had our first backyard. And all three cats absolutely adored spending time back there. I turned it from a garbage -filled dump into a vine and flower oasis where as many of you have seen, there was always a cat lounging underneath something, or rolling around in the sun. Elly was determined to stay outside at all costs, even if it was pouring rain. Four years later, we moved to another apartment with a garden and Elly loved that one as well. I'm so glad I was able to provide gardens for her, although I didn't let them out here in Kansas this spring/summer due to having no fences. The last two days here, I let her out, thinking it would improve her mental health. She was almost her old self again, even rolled and twirled around in the grass.
As most of you who knew her can recall, Elly also had a diva like personality. She loved to be adored, petted and brushed. BUT...there were times when she let you know she had had enough and it was sometimes in the form of a swipe. I believe I am the only person she rarely, if ever, swiped.
This is where the guilt comes in. Elly was not my favorite cat. Losing a cat that isn't your favorite makes you feel worse in some ways. I mean, except for the past two months, I didn't dote on her the way I did with the other cats. Not to say I ignored her or didn't give her lots of hugs and kisses. But now, I'm like, "I should have brushed her more. That made her SO happy!!! She would twitch her tail and purr and let out these little cries of happiness.
Thing is, I knew she would have just thrived more in a one-cat household. Being that she was my mother's favorite of the bunch and being that she had lost our family cat several years ago and never got another pet, I suggested on a few occasions that my parents might take her, but I never really pressed the issue. It was clear that I was the person she loved most. So, I kept her and in retrospect, I really feel like I did know what was best for her, being the sole kitty star of the household.
The past two months, Chick and Iphy really dominated Elly. It's hard to say if this was because she got thin and weak or she got thin and weak because she was being dominated by them, come food time. I know it kind of worked hand in hand. This became apparent to Krysztof when I was in New York in June. She stopped coming downstairs and was not eating. When I got back, I immediately started to feed her upstairs, and wet food instead of dry, which she loved and wolfed right down. Then I figured after 2 weeks, she was better, was coming down to eat and I started to ONLY feed her downstairs. This is when the other cats started to loom around and swipe at her when she was eating. She gradually stopped eating AGAIN. I tried various varieties of food, even the junk food I vowed never to give her. To no avail.
Hell, it was Sheena who noticed that Elly didn't look herself LAST July 2008 when she came to visit. I was so overworked at that point and didn't see it myself. Eric took her to the vet. She had to have a benign tumor removed, as well as an ingrown nail. From then on, maybe she was too stressed. Eric moved out in September. I was away a lot during the fall, if not working, then visiting K or having him visit.
Carolyn always said Elly was the Jean Harlow of cats, due to her personality, appearance and clumsy/goofy manner.
In the spring of 1937, Harlow began filming Saratoga with Clark Gable. It would be her final film. Off screen, Harlow perspired heavily and she began coming late to shooting. On May 29, 1937, Harlow collapsed on set and was rushed to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with uremic poisoning. She was cared for at home for the next eight days and was given constant medical attention, despite her mother's Christian Science beliefs. Nonetheless, her condition worsened. On Sunday, June 6, 1937, she was rushed to the hospital. Jean Harlow died the following morning at 11:37 a.m. She was 26 years of age.
Her death, I can't lie, was most horrible to witness. I prefer to think of it as a grand exit worthy of any glamorous, but tragic, movie star...Harlow, Lupe Velez. K and I were giving her her pill and she would have none of it on Saturday night. Walked off, convulsed, howled glamorously and collapsed and died with K's hands on her, feeling her heart finally give out and then finally, she lay in a beautiful but tragic heap.
We told the kids last night. Originally, when I was going through the first hour of mourning after this, K suggested that we not tell them til the next visit. But then I researched some sites which said that you need to be truthful with children when a pet dies. Saying it went away is not good, as a child Z's age especially will know the truth. Not to mention the fact that Z is very smart and perceptive. I wanted them to know that this was THEIR pet, too, and they deserved to know why Elly isn't around anymore to sit on their laps while they watched a movie. She hadn't done that in a few weeks, as she became sicker.
So, as per Sheena's suggestion that we get the kids to draw pictures of Elly, K started the discussion by taking out paper and crayons and telling the kids they were going to draw. Z happily asked, "why? what are we drawing?" and he said calmly, "Elly." and explained how she had been sick, as they noticed, over the past weeks and last night, she died. Kasper, at three years old, didn't really understand, but knows she is not coming back. Z was sad, but was able to draw a lovely picture, after they both gave me hugs. I can't imagine a more dignified and loving way to break the sad news of a pet dying to one's children.
Here is her picture (notice that the hat Kasper is wearing has a mouse peeping out of it. And the carrot is a catnip toy she gave to Elly when she arrived in April. The thumbs up sign and shamrock are for good luck. Note Elly's crown and angel wings as well).
Here is a happier time when Elly was in the garden at night (photos taken by Aunt Carolyn who doted on her)
and here she is all happy in the sun with her catnip toy given to her by the kids just a few months ago. She loved living in a house with lots of windows and sun
She had the most admirers out of all the cats. She'd sit in the window in Brooklyn and people would exclaim over her as they walked by. The old ladies next door would say, "That white cat is BEEEEYOOOOOTIFUL." Besides the markings and spots that made her a "cow cat," she also had a question mark on her head. I almost wish I could find it in me to take her out of the plastic bag we put her in (in the freezer) and clip off a snip of fur. But I don't think I could bear it.
Goodbye my Princess Lady cat, Elly-chan. You made my life so fucking happy for the past 12 years. I can only hope I did the same for you.
Iphy and Elly adapted well to my apartment and used to chase each other all over the place. It was a joy to watch them tear ass all over the place. But, within a week, Elly was sick and I had to take her on a vet appointment (this was after getting her shots so maybe it was within 2 weeks?). She had a bad cold and the vet warned me that with kittens, there was a chance she wouldn't make it. I medicated her, put her next to my pillow so that she'd sleep with me. I'd pet her as she fell asleep, feeling her heart beating and her slight purr. One night as I did this I thought to myself, "Elly is going to make it, but of the two, this will be the cat who will die first many years from now." She recovered within a week or so. Because I would give her love and extra attention when she made sniffing sounds, that became her "thing" when she wanted some loving throughout her life. Actually, all of the other cats ended up adopting this behavior. Iphy immediately, and later Onion when we moved to Brooklyn almost a year later, and finally Chick in 2001. It was all because Elly was sick as a kitten and learned that a sniff or snort would mean attention.
Elly soon developed into the kitten that could only TRY to do the crazy things her more agile sister was able to accomplish. Like climbing up into the cabinets. I have photos of Elly just staring up at Iphy, unable to jump on to the counter yet. She'd do things like sit in pots. She'd try and get in the fridge when I opened it. She liked to sit on the bottom shelf. We'd spell out T-A-R-D regularly, laughing at her silliness.
She soon became a long haired diva within a few months, with the craziest, longest and poofiest tail (even the vet remarked on her tail last week). A diva who was prone to the clutziest behavior and getting herself into awkward situations. She had an "issue" getting used to all of her long hair when it came to uh, relieving herself, she'd do the "scooting" around the apartment (it was awful wall to wall carpeting), dragging her butt on the floor. Once I clipped her "butt hair," however, she was so outraged that this barely ever happened again.
When we moved to Brooklyn, we had our first backyard. And all three cats absolutely adored spending time back there. I turned it from a garbage -filled dump into a vine and flower oasis where as many of you have seen, there was always a cat lounging underneath something, or rolling around in the sun. Elly was determined to stay outside at all costs, even if it was pouring rain. Four years later, we moved to another apartment with a garden and Elly loved that one as well. I'm so glad I was able to provide gardens for her, although I didn't let them out here in Kansas this spring/summer due to having no fences. The last two days here, I let her out, thinking it would improve her mental health. She was almost her old self again, even rolled and twirled around in the grass.
As most of you who knew her can recall, Elly also had a diva like personality. She loved to be adored, petted and brushed. BUT...there were times when she let you know she had had enough and it was sometimes in the form of a swipe. I believe I am the only person she rarely, if ever, swiped.
This is where the guilt comes in. Elly was not my favorite cat. Losing a cat that isn't your favorite makes you feel worse in some ways. I mean, except for the past two months, I didn't dote on her the way I did with the other cats. Not to say I ignored her or didn't give her lots of hugs and kisses. But now, I'm like, "I should have brushed her more. That made her SO happy!!! She would twitch her tail and purr and let out these little cries of happiness.
Thing is, I knew she would have just thrived more in a one-cat household. Being that she was my mother's favorite of the bunch and being that she had lost our family cat several years ago and never got another pet, I suggested on a few occasions that my parents might take her, but I never really pressed the issue. It was clear that I was the person she loved most. So, I kept her and in retrospect, I really feel like I did know what was best for her, being the sole kitty star of the household.
The past two months, Chick and Iphy really dominated Elly. It's hard to say if this was because she got thin and weak or she got thin and weak because she was being dominated by them, come food time. I know it kind of worked hand in hand. This became apparent to Krysztof when I was in New York in June. She stopped coming downstairs and was not eating. When I got back, I immediately started to feed her upstairs, and wet food instead of dry, which she loved and wolfed right down. Then I figured after 2 weeks, she was better, was coming down to eat and I started to ONLY feed her downstairs. This is when the other cats started to loom around and swipe at her when she was eating. She gradually stopped eating AGAIN. I tried various varieties of food, even the junk food I vowed never to give her. To no avail.
Hell, it was Sheena who noticed that Elly didn't look herself LAST July 2008 when she came to visit. I was so overworked at that point and didn't see it myself. Eric took her to the vet. She had to have a benign tumor removed, as well as an ingrown nail. From then on, maybe she was too stressed. Eric moved out in September. I was away a lot during the fall, if not working, then visiting K or having him visit.
Carolyn always said Elly was the Jean Harlow of cats, due to her personality, appearance and clumsy/goofy manner.
In the spring of 1937, Harlow began filming Saratoga with Clark Gable. It would be her final film. Off screen, Harlow perspired heavily and she began coming late to shooting. On May 29, 1937, Harlow collapsed on set and was rushed to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with uremic poisoning. She was cared for at home for the next eight days and was given constant medical attention, despite her mother's Christian Science beliefs. Nonetheless, her condition worsened. On Sunday, June 6, 1937, she was rushed to the hospital. Jean Harlow died the following morning at 11:37 a.m. She was 26 years of age.
Her death, I can't lie, was most horrible to witness. I prefer to think of it as a grand exit worthy of any glamorous, but tragic, movie star...Harlow, Lupe Velez. K and I were giving her her pill and she would have none of it on Saturday night. Walked off, convulsed, howled glamorously and collapsed and died with K's hands on her, feeling her heart finally give out and then finally, she lay in a beautiful but tragic heap.
We told the kids last night. Originally, when I was going through the first hour of mourning after this, K suggested that we not tell them til the next visit. But then I researched some sites which said that you need to be truthful with children when a pet dies. Saying it went away is not good, as a child Z's age especially will know the truth. Not to mention the fact that Z is very smart and perceptive. I wanted them to know that this was THEIR pet, too, and they deserved to know why Elly isn't around anymore to sit on their laps while they watched a movie. She hadn't done that in a few weeks, as she became sicker.
So, as per Sheena's suggestion that we get the kids to draw pictures of Elly, K started the discussion by taking out paper and crayons and telling the kids they were going to draw. Z happily asked, "why? what are we drawing?" and he said calmly, "Elly." and explained how she had been sick, as they noticed, over the past weeks and last night, she died. Kasper, at three years old, didn't really understand, but knows she is not coming back. Z was sad, but was able to draw a lovely picture, after they both gave me hugs. I can't imagine a more dignified and loving way to break the sad news of a pet dying to one's children.
Here is her picture (notice that the hat Kasper is wearing has a mouse peeping out of it. And the carrot is a catnip toy she gave to Elly when she arrived in April. The thumbs up sign and shamrock are for good luck. Note Elly's crown and angel wings as well).
Here is a happier time when Elly was in the garden at night (photos taken by Aunt Carolyn who doted on her)
and here she is all happy in the sun with her catnip toy given to her by the kids just a few months ago. She loved living in a house with lots of windows and sun
She had the most admirers out of all the cats. She'd sit in the window in Brooklyn and people would exclaim over her as they walked by. The old ladies next door would say, "That white cat is BEEEEYOOOOOTIFUL." Besides the markings and spots that made her a "cow cat," she also had a question mark on her head. I almost wish I could find it in me to take her out of the plastic bag we put her in (in the freezer) and clip off a snip of fur. But I don't think I could bear it.
Goodbye my Princess Lady cat, Elly-chan. You made my life so fucking happy for the past 12 years. I can only hope I did the same for you.