A tail of two kitties

When M and I first moved in together, back in 2005, we decided that it was time for a new roommate. One of the furry variety. My mom knew someone who had some cats (understatement) who needed a good home, so we went to see if we might want to take one home. And we did. Two.

Kramer and Wendy were two fluffy, crazy, lovable, smush-faced persians. Wendy was a bit skittish at first, and spent a lot of time in hiding. Kramer immediately followed us around like a puppy. We didn't know much about persians when we took them home. Only that they had a lot of fur. A LOT. OF FUR. and loved people. In no time flat, Wendy made her way out of hiding and we discovered a lot more about our new furry kids. Including the fact that dear sweet Kramer had a host of health problems. It started with seizures, which we opted not to treat with medication as that could alter his sweet and loving personality and also shorten his life span. So instead, whenever he would have a seizure (usually in the middle of the night, while sleeping by our feet) I would hold him as gently and firmly as I could to keep him from hurting himself. M once said that he knew after watching me with Kramer that I would be a good mom. God forbid I ever have to hold anyone else while having a seizure ever again.

We had a few good years with Kramer and eventually things took a turn for the worst. He was on heart medications (which, since this post is quickly becoming a downer you might remember that in a flight-induced fog after a trip to Seattle I took myself instead of giving to the cat. That made for an interesting call to poison control!) and our fabulous vet went above and beyond doing all the research she could on his condition. In the end, he suffered a blockage in his heart that cut off all blood flow to his lower half and we knew it was time to end his suffering. It was the saddest night of our lives together, yet pulling us through was the fact that a little life, more precious than we could ever imagine was busy growing from kumquat to plum-sized.

We thought Wendy would be sad without Kramer. And while she definitely looked for him, she seemed to like the position of only child. While she had it anyway. When Zane arrived, we wondered how she would react. But, like a protective big sister she would sit outside his door when he cried or rub her head on his feet when I fed him.

On our moving day, a day we were looking forward to for months, Wendy died quickly and what we hope was painlessly in the basement of our new house. After watching Kramer suffer, we were thankful for the small favor that we don't think Wendy was in pain. We think it was just her time. And it was probably God's way of reminding us that life is fragile and to be thankful for every moment that you have with the people (and yes, even animals) that you love.

We'll miss those two crazy fur balls.