So let me tell you about Precious Princess Peska Pooska. She was a Maine Coon Cat, though a little on the small side. One day in 1995 Kaim and I went out into the garage with Rags, our Springer Spaniel, and there was a huge, feral cat hissing at us. I told Kaim to get in the house and take Rags with her, and the huge feral cat (who always had tufted ears) defluffed and became Pooska, nothing scary at all (she looked like a tiny bobcat). She wouldn’t come in the house, but we fed her out there, and she took off again. We went off to Disney World for the first time about a week later, and shortly after we got back she was there again, and sick. Kaim managed to lure her into the house (with cheese, the same way she got Phantom to come in) and we took her to the Steve the Vet, who said she was just under a year (still had her baby teeth). So she moved in, Kaim named her (11-year old girls come up with names like that) and she was one of the most adored cats of all time. I worried about her, afraid something would happen to her (it’s a rough life for cats in the northeast kingdom of Vermont) but she thrived. We lost two other cats we’d gotten from a farm, then inherited Cello (Mellow Yellow Fellow Cello) from my former brother-in-law (we have friendly divorces) and then Phantom showed up, prowling around the garage like a gray ghost (hence the name). I think Phantom must have come because Pooska couldn’t live forever.
She’s been on borrowed time for more than a year. Kaim used to say she came home to see her Pooska, not her parents (she was kidding. I think.)
But as the day wore on Pooska could barely walk, and we decided it was time. We called Steve, who said he’d come by at six, and I spent the afternoon holding her. I think she was in a coma when he came — she couldn’t lift her head, and she didn’t even notice the shot, and Richie and I held her. Steve said it was always so much better if he came to the house (obviously we’ve known Steve forever too). She’ll be cremated and buried on our land, where she lived such a good, long life.
It’s funny how the deaths of animals echo all the other deaths. I remember when Richie’s father was dying of cancer my brother had given us a fish tank, and the fish kept dying. When the final fish died Richie and I just sat and cried (and you don’t get that attached to fish. At least, I don’t).
So it’s a very sad house with only one cat, which isn’t right but if we’re trying to be mobile we need to keep it that way. Unless another cat shows up in our garage, in which case we’ll welcome it in.
Now I have to figure out the best way to let Kaim know.