We heard her purring when we entered the room. She was always happy to see us, and not just 'cause "she knew what side her Friskies were buttered on," as my Mom would say.
The Scribe Family said goodbye to Patch the Cat yesterday. She'd been getting "up there" in years, but started a rapid decline recently. I took her to the vet on Monday & was told that her time was not long comin'.
Patchy was a good ol' kitty. An "outdoor" feline with no front claws, she'd climb a tree in a second~in her younger years. As one of 2 "pound kitties" we rescued in 1996, Patch's care & feeding went to Ella Numera Dos. The kid was gaga over that cat~and with good reason.
Some complain that cats are standoffish, selfish, solitary souls. It's true~they don't slobber all over one like a dog is wont to do. But they have their special ways of endearing themselves to their "people."
That's it, plain & simple: Patch was a "people person." The old gal had the loudest purr we'd ever heard. In fact, we sometimes called her "motorboat." She'd use any excuse to curl up with her humans. One of her favorite positions was up high, on the left side of my chest. I dubbed her "armpit kitty" on those occasions.
The hardest part about losing a member of the family is telling the kids. I had to break the sad news to Ella Numera Dos over the phone, since she's away at college & all. I've had to say goodbye to pets before, but this was the most difficult "adios" I've ever experienced.
Vaya Con Dios, my pretty friend, Patchy. I know God's got a bowl full of kibbles for you up there somewhere.