Letter to my brandi

Dear sweet ladycat brandi, my angel,

I miss you.  We filled in each other a rather empty heart to overflowing. I had someone to love, and I had unconditional love given back to me. And that, ladies and gentlemen and kitties and woofies is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD.

I miss the little things. You waiting impatiently for your morning Denties while I did my meds and my shot and my levels. You standing by your dishes if I forgot them (I know, never let the bottom of the bowl of crunchies look empty—even though you ate that part first). Your little face turned up and your sniffing the air when I cooked. Your absolute delight in ham pizzas, bless you, and the paw on my arm to remind me that you were waiting for something while I was on the computer. Either making sure I was blogging, wanting a cuddle break, or wanting some Denties (you hussy, you). And your making the rounds of the apartment making sure everything was okay. Little things. And of course demanding your nighttime Denties not once but twice a night (and you got them, didn’t you)!

Yesterday I had to sign my new lease, and I met the manager in the hallway waiting for the elevator going downstairs to the community room where we were to get our leases signed and our new keys for our locks. I told him you were gone. He was very sympathetic. Did I want my deposit back? Somehow I answered no. And he was amazed that you were 19. He was so nice about it.

Remember that nasty landlord in our old apartment? What a difference!

You were with me for so long, and endured so much with me.  I was happily working at the university when my office mate directed me to a library cartoon site (she was studying for her library degree and knew I had a background in library science myself). From there I found Max, the Psycho Kitty and we were off and running. Catitude was born. And you were fun to write about.

We went through unemployment. And money problems. And a loving blog community ready to help. And moving finally to this apartment. And remodeling.  And my heart attack (the first thing I demanded was that someone take care of you while I was away). And my crazy new job and then finally staying at home.  I think you liked that part.  You got to be with me a lot more. You missed having a window ledge to sit on, and the birds and the neighborhood squirrel from our old apartment, so I suppose your entertainment became ME. And lots of naps.

You got older and older, and started having some problems.  The last year you started sleeping with me. You never used to even sleep in the same room with me, and now you were on the bed! And as you got older and older, you started creeping up from the bottom of the bed to lay next to me. I was so pleased! You loved the daybed. You OWNED it.

Did you remember you didn’t eat out of my hand for the longest time? I was so happy when you finally trusted me enough to take food from my fingers! It was such a gift to me!

When you got stiffer and stiffer and started to lose weight, I knew.  When you missed the litter box all the time, I knew.  When your nose got whiter and whiter, I knew. And when you started to stumble, chills went through me and I knew.

We talked.  I told you how dear you were. I told you I love you (well, I told you that every day). How sad it was that you were getting on in years. I knew. And it hurt. You needed to say goodbye.  And I did, too.

When you stumbled around the last few days, and stroked, I couldn’t see letting you suffer any more. I knew.

I told you thank you for your love.  Thank you for your life.  Thank you for everything. And that I didn’t want you to hurt any more.

I decided you would go over the Bridge in your own home. MNpets was called. Jennifer was understanding and so kind, and so sweet to you and to me. You were given a sedative and fell asleep in my arms. I kissed your ears and called you my sweet kitty. Then, when you were falling into a deep sleep, I could feel you purr. I think you were happy you couldn’t feel the pain, and you could sleep so comfortably. And in your mommy’s arms. Then, you were given another injection and slowly your heart stopped.

I think my world stopped, too. I find myself crying over silly simple things you did that I remember. I miss your paw on my arm, your sweet demand for Denties. I miss all of you. And so, every so often, I burst into tears. I'm sorry. I just miss you.

We were meant to be together from day one. Remember, you took one look at me at that adoption event and your paw went out of the cage you were in, and you meowed and meowed? And when I finally agreed to see you, you crawled up my arm and snuggled under my chin with the sweetest little purr. You got me. I was your mommy. And that was that.

When other cats I was adopted by ran away to the Bridge, I needed time to mourn.  This time, I think you are telling me that I need to fill some other little kitty’s heart with love. And soon.

So life will go on, and I hope a sweetie will come live with me. You’ll see to that, won’t you? I don’t think you want me to be alone. I don’t want to be alone.

Somehow, somewhere, you are looking for someone who needs a mommy like me. I am grateful.  The blogging community will welcome who ever it is. Catitude will go on. The world will start again.

I will always keep you in my heart. But my heart is big enough for another kitty.

Your ashes will be in an urn right next to Suki. Top of the bookcase, looking down at your mama. I just have to find the right urn. And be able to afford it. Your ashes will be with me soon. Your spirit is, already.

I love you, my brandi candi. My sweet girl.

Carol