A Loving Life Well-Lived

Abby came into our lives in the spring of 2000.

After our previous cat, Beanie, died unexpectedly, we had initially decided that we didn't really need another cat. But I missed him dearly and our dogs (at the time Opal - a White German Shepherd and Ruby - a red and black German Shepherd) felt the loss as well.  Opal especially, since Beanie was really "her" cat.

The thing about cats (the ones I've had anyway) is that they're cuddlers. They sneak up and purr on your lap. They lay by your pillow and knead it with their paws. I had to admit that I missed that stuff.

Beanie had been a dog-like "big fuzzy cat" and I knew that's what I wanted, so I started to do some breed research online and decided that I needed a Maine Coon. I found someone local with a litter of Maine Coons and went to visit her. I sat in the middle of her living room floor surrounded by 7-week-old kittens. It was bliss. One of them chose me, a beautiful gray girl. She climbed right up into my lap and curled up. The breeder immediately grabbed her and said, "I shouldn't have shown her to you. I'm sorry. She's already spoken for." I couldn't make another decision, so I brought Phillip back the following day. This time the beautiful gray girl was with the bunch again and she climbed right up in Phillip's lap and curled up, but I knew she wasn't available. We narrowed our choices down to a couple of others and said we'd decide that night and call the breeder back.

Phillip's guidance was, "If you can't get that little gray one, don't bother with this litter."

As if by fate, the breeder called me the next morning to tell me that she'd thought about it and had decided that we would be a better choice for "the adorable little gray one" because she was so gentle and the other family had small children. Since the family in question didn't mind choosing a different kitten, "the adorable little gray one" who had CHOSEN US could be ours if we wanted her!

I picked her up and brought her home to meet the family. The dogs took to her at once, being used to a cat, and she held her own immediately. Ruby quickly became very attached to this nameless gray kitty and it was obvious that, this time, SHE would be the one who had a cat.

That night, the new kitten didn't want to sleep. She wanted to lay on our heads, meow in our faces (over and over again), and lick our hands. Just our hands. Phillip said something like "this darned cat may not be normal" and, being the huge "Young Frankenstein" fans that we both are, she suddenly had a name! ABBY-NORMAL!

Abby never was a normal cat after all. She would always run to the door to greet you when you came home, tail in the air, meowing and chortling (a Maine Coon cat noise) loudly.  She demanded to be fed quite vocally first thing in the morning and right before bedtime.  She could back an 80 pound German Shepherd down a hallway with no front claws and without using her teeth.  She loved to run full speed and slide sideways around the corner in the kitchen for fun. She would lie in wait under the bed, only to pounce out and grab an unsuspecting dog leg (or person leg).  She demanded to be petted and cuddled every night at bedtime, every bit as loudly as she did that first night as a kitten, and insisted that I hold her paw like a hand in my hand until she grew tired of it or I went to sleep.

In her lifetime, Abby mourned the loss of both Opal and Ruby and took on the responsibilities for bossing around two totally different dogs in Maya (black German Shepherd) and Greta (White German Shepherd). 

Over twelve pounds and always healthy as a horse, things suddenly started to change a few weeks ago.  Her eating slowed down and she started to lose weight.  Lots of tests didn't give lots of answers, but an enlarged spleen was removed in the hopes that, whatever it was that was slowing her down was confined to that organ. She bounced back for awhile, but then started to decline again. It became obvious in the past two weeks that something bigger was happening. Some sort of lymphoma or something that she just wasn't able to kick. You could see it in her eyes.  She'd finished fighting.

We had a good talk last night in bed, she and I. I talked to her about how glad Ruby and Opal would be to see her and how they might even bring along that cat Beanie that she's heard about but never met. Sounds silly, I know, but while I talked to her about this, told her how much I loved her, and cried, she started to purr and lick my hand like she did when she was a kitten. I don't care what anybody else thinks, she understood what I was saying and I have to believe that she knows we did everything we could to help her, but it just wasn't going to make any difference.

So, 11-1/2 years after "the adorable little gray one" chose us, we chose to let her go this evening at the vet.  We held her and petted her and kissed her while she purred and went to sleep for the last time.

Thank you for being such a wonderful friend, Abby. I know that Ruby and Opal were glad to see you and that you're probably curled up next to Ruby in your old favorite spot. While I'm devastatingly sad tonight, the image of you being all together again makes me smile.