Those are the words anyone who shares their life with animals dread. It signals the inevitable parting of ways, often with hard but unavoidable choices to be made.
I heard those words last Friday, and it meant the end of my journey with Soekiekat (Southern Comfort or Soco on the books, but seriously, what pet ever has just one name?).
It was just before Christmas about 6 years ago when I met a vet-friend for coffee. Of course the discussion turned to animals and she asked how my furry family was doing. I admitted that I missed Mouse...ahem, I mean Sterling tabbycat, and that it had been an interesting dynamic with 3 cats and a big dog in one household. My memory now paints her response in coy colours: "well, there just so happens to be a kitty at the office looking for a home."
Yep, she could sure spot a sucker! The image of a lonely cat, crouched in a metal cage spending Christmas all alone in the cold vet offices broke my heart, and opened a door for Soco to walk into our lives.
The small tabby with the spiral markings on her side and a nick out of her tongue hopped out of the cat-carrier, glided through the house, and then promptly settled for a snooze on the back-rest of the couch. I stood there, mouth agape, all over-prepared for an anxious cat that needed to be settled into her environment. Instead I got a cat that ran a quick inspection and then gave me the "yes, I can work with this "-look, placing her pawprints firmly in our territory and hearts.
I often wandered about the owners that were forced to abandon her as they emigrated. And after her death, I do so again. I want to tell them what a blessing she was, that she found a happy home, that she had a good life with more spirit than her small body could ever carry and that I learnt oh so very much from her.
Soekie's rules for life:
1. Never underestimate the importance of sleep - one of her nicknames was "narcoleptic kitty". She spent quality time on her couch-back spot, right there where the first rays of the morning sun entered the house. I would walk past several times a day, observing the changes in sleeping posture, the ridiculous facial expressions of a blissful cat while in turn getting at most one green eye opening halfway or a jaw-cracking yawn.
2. Play! I was witness to many a wrestling match between Soekie and Sammi (also known as Scaredy-cat), games of chase that made it sound as if a herd of buffalo were stampeding through the house, and Soekie's dangerous "poke the lion" game where she'd sniff Savannah's (a.k.a. Fatcat) bum and then get involved in a swatting match.
3. Enjoy the outdoors. To the extent that the outdoors often found its way indoors, and it was my job to return the efforts from the "catch & release" programme back into the wild. Often at 2 am, armed with a towel or dustpan and dressed in a hastily grabbed night-gown. I could write a detailed catalogue of the catchable-sized wildlife in my area. Gardening was enjoyed by both of us, affording her a time to show off her tree-climbing, garden-ambush and surprise-attack skills.
4. Push your luck.... and be prepared to compromise. The dining room table was our most hotly contested issue. It was perfectly positioned to catch the late afternoon sun and offered a spectacular view of sunset. Also, a lovely sunning spot where you could watch the comings & goings of practically the whole lower floor. I lost count of the number of times I turfed her from the table, only to see her boomerang back. So we compromised... I placed a special kitty blanket on the table, and she graciously only sat on that one spot of the table, and never when guests were around.
5. Be bold! Whenever there was a strange noise outside or the sound of another cat, it was always interesting to observe the results in my house. Scaredy-cat would make a bee-line for indoors, and usually his hiding spot under the bed; whereas Soco would lead the charge outside, closely followed by Fatcat, to see who needed beating up on her territory.
6. Everyone is a potential friend. And I observed the most unlikely friendship forming between my adopted and reportedly cat-eating dog (well, she does have them for dinner, but as companions, not a course) and Soco. She would wind between the dog's legs, leaning in for a rough sniff and a quick lick from her large canine friend. They'd often sleep together on the dog-bed in winter, two warm bodies snuggled under the blanket.
7. Expect the unexpected. When I went to pick her up 6 years ago, I had no idea how she'd fit into the household or my heart. But she quickly worked her way deep into both, and I'm thankful for every day we had together. Her illness came just as suddenly, and our forced goodbye, reminding me of her final lesson...
8. Live fully in every moment
Until we meet again Soekie... the scratches you left in the plum tree's bark won't outlast the tracks you left in my heart.
And now for a real ode....
Ode to Spot - by Data (originally by Clay Dale)
- Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
- An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
- Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
- Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
- I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
- A singular development of cat communications
- That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
- For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
- A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
- You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
- And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
- It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
- O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
- Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
- And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
- I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
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