El Gato
For the first time in 20 years I am cat-less. Poor old White Paws died on Tuesday afternoon while I was stuck at work teaching a class. I am glad that my husband and son were home with him. Brian called and said “he’s curled up in the litter box and taking a breath about every 30 seconds. What should I do??” I said “take him out and hold him on your lap and say good-bye because he’ll be gone very soon.” So Brian and Randy sat on the bathroom floor with old man kitty and scratched him behind the ears and talked to him till it was finished. He was 19 years old and the last of 5 cats who had all lived with me since I was that same age. I found he and his brother, Gray Paws (they were known collectively as the Paws Brothers), as little kittens in a P&C parking lot at 3 AM and took them home to join Kelly Jean and Eddie (Lydia would join us later). As the years went by and the others died along the way, I was worried that poor old White Paws would be lonely but it turns out he was born to be an only-cat! He took full advantage of the many free laps to choose from and the open spot on my pillow at night, right next to my head. I would put my ear up against him and listen to him purr, and he would do pookie in my hair (and any of you who have had a cat know just what pookie is 
). He loved the sound of his own voice and would often go down in the basement or way under the shelves in the closet where he would have superior acoustics for his rrowwr rrowrr serenade. In the 3 years between Lydia’s death and his, he was king - he was young at heart, he didn’t take shit from the dogs, he was always on the wrong side of a closed door. He was not aloof, he always had his heart on his sleeve and was never stingy with his affections. Even towards the end (he had been declining for a couple of weeks), he never slunk away and hid like animals sometimes do when they are sick or dying - he always wanted to be where we were and even when he could barely walk, he would always find his way to a lap. When he could hardly lift his head, he still purred. I am grateful that I had these last 3 years with him alone, I got to know and appreciate him better than in all of the 16 years before. He was a good cat. I don’t think I even fully realize yet how much I am going to miss him.
Comment by Marshall
Thursday January 20 2005 @ 8:37 pm
Wow, what a beautiful post. I was touched by the sweet description of White Paws personality. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m also glad you had the chance to enjoy him (and, I’m sure, make his life wonderful).