My husband was like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, only with cats....that he did not lead to drown in water. Cats, literally walked off the street straight to him. Dot, well she showed up one cold, rainy, wintry evening on our porch. We already had THREE animals in a space where we were only supposed to have TWO. What are you going to do when those animals march right off the street and into your heart? I tried to be firm. Make her a tent to get warm, give her food and water, BUT DON'T BRING HER IN THE HOUSE! Why was I so adamant? I knew that she would come inside and I would become attached and we would have double the amount of animals that we were supposed to have?!
I should put in the title, don't read if you are not absolutely madly, crazy in love with some sort of animal. Anyway, Dot next was moved to our garage, which my husband used for a recording studio. That gave he and Dot lots of bonding time.
Then one day, one of my children's friends brazenly marched into the house with Dot in her hands...and that was that. Her name? My wise manipulative husband (well not really totally manipulative, just a little bit) knew that if I named this creature, I would be even further connected to her. It was easy. She was all gray, (I thought, but learned differently later...that is for another post) except for a tiny white dot of fur just below her chin. Of course, later her name was elongated to Dotsy, Dotsy Doodle Doo and Dotsy Wotsy Doodle Doo. (What? Her owner loves words).
I did NOT like Dot much at first. She came, brand new into an already established pecking order. Rolly, our precious Poochan pooch was the alpha. Spike, our orange tabby was next, and Katty Kaliko was lowest on the totem pole. Dot came in determined to become the alpha...forget being a MALE alpha....from the first she was, "I am woman hear me roar!" (Thanks to Helen Reddy for singing that lovely anthem). Dot would stalk the two kitties and jump out at them.
Rolly? She seemed to think that Rolly was some sort of odd cat. She was madly in love at first sight. Sadly, that love was NOT reciprocated. Rolly was, however tolerant (most of the time) of her loving nuzzles and sidles against him.
I fed Dot, and put up with Dot but she was very much devoted to my husband and child. He would often tell me, "She's a sweet kitty!" I was not convinced. Then my husband died. Dot grieved with us. At first she was a bit annoyed that I would actually sit in his recliner. Eventually she accepted me as a worthwhile participant in the loyal order of Nyle and his creatures!
I had never lived alone. I was terrified. Our children were grown up and gone. The worst was nightimes. My hubby and I were nocturnal for the last decade of our marriage. I would usually go to bed earlier than him, but I felt completely safe knowing that my six foot four muscular honey was watching over me. When he passed, I was lost. I felt as though my feet went completely out from under me. We had shared twenty seven years of living and three children together.
This is when Dot and I bonded. Both lost without him, she seemed drawn to me when I needed her most. In the darkness of the night I would awaken myelf sobbing. Often Dot would climb on my tummy and knead my chest, throat and face. It was like having a personal grief crisis counselor that lived with me.
After my husband's passing we moved....lots...and she moved on with me. Along the way we said goodbye to Spike, Katty, and Rolly. Dot continued on. In the last few months she has been bravely battling lymphoma. Her vet told me that she is the strongest animal that they ever worked with. Strong in her desire to live in spite of chemo, shots, blood draws, pills, etc. She was strong in her persistence at getting around, up and down, and wherever she needed to go. I continued having nightly communal experiences with her purring, and kneading. This last week, things changed drastically. Her ability to fight the demon invading her body grew weaker. She was down to nearly four pounds. In her prime she weighed almost fifteen. Even as her body weakened her spirit soared. During this time she received massive quantities of snuggles, treats, water from the bathroom faucet (she adored watching the water come out fuzzy and then drinking from my hand).
Finally it became obvious that it was time to release her. It would not have been merciful to wait for this wasting disease to finish destroying her strong body. Today I made the trip that every pet lover dreads. She went to the vet's one last time. The vet was AMAZING! They had a beautiful outdoor space prepared with lavender growing to one side, and a charming gazebo. It's a pandemic and I'm a prime candidate so they were willing to perform her release outside. I sang to her and stroked her head as she relaxed and then leaped into her strong, healthy spirit self.
I have no doubt that my sweety, her rescuer is holding her in his arms. Rolly is putting up with her loving nuzzles, and she is once again trying to rule the roost. Thank you my deliver Dot, who helped me cope with grief until I was strong enough to face it on my own.
