Kitty Love

my 19 year old kitty died today.

yesterday Patma called to tell me Twixie was not doing well; she could tell it was her last day. she wasn't walking well yesterday and was confused in the dark hallways the night before. after Patma got home from work, Twixie wanted to go out on the deck to sun herself, and when Patma came back to check on her, she was gone. after searching for a long time, mom and dad couldn't find her. it got dark. Patma was worried that she would die outside, alone, unprotected, and that animals might come for her.

But today Patma wrote an email to my brother and me, saying,

"Dad did find her last night about 10pm out back. She didn't meow, but he used a flashlight. He carried her in and she lapped up all of the tuna water and then crawled under the bed. This morning she came out while I was in the kitchen and laid down next to Dad's dresser where the tuna was last night. So, I brought her some kitty milk and she drank up all of that. While she was drinking, I got her carrier and she went in without any prompting after she finished her milk. I took her to work with me. The vet said bring her in so since we had a sub for a kindergarten teacher today, she came in for me after the K students went home. So anyway, no more suffering for Twix."

So I'm glad they found her . . . that she could have a few last yummy treats before leaving mom and dad for good. She was born almost exactly 19 years ago. I got Twix and her sister kitty (Little Rosie) on my 11th birthday. (In all of my 11 year old wisdom, Twixie was named after my favorite candy bar.) She was the queen cat of defeating dogs of all sizes, a defender of her territory against the neighboring cats (see the photo of her ear), completely selfish when it came to wanting love, adored the wet yolk of overeasy eggs (my dad's leftover plate saved for her on sunday mornings to lick), and protested loudly when mom and dad returned from long trips (How dare they leave her for so long!). She loved to sit on laps in the evening and preferred to go to bed by 8pm at the latest. I used to dress her and Rosie in doll clothes when they were kittens. She hated it as a proud kitty should. She slept under the covers with me and comforted me when I was sad. She tolerated V-dog, this summer, with a dignity and patience we did not expect. I love her . . . and am grateful that she had such a long, healthy, pretty darn happy life.

Here are some pictures we took of her this summer: