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| Rosie takes a nap. |
“Soft kitty, warm kitty,
little ball of fur.
Happy kitty, sleepy kitty
little ball of fur.
Happy kitty, sleepy kitty
Purr, purr, purr.”
–The Big Bang Theory
I'm sure nobody is really surprised that I’m writing about a cat
right now, but “Cozy” Rosie was so much more to our family (and probably me especially) than the cat part of
those family minivan bumper stickers. We would probably never admit that if you asked us last year.
It’s been a journey, and I imagine Grammy Lou calling Rosie
right now, like she did every night when she was living with us, “Pshh pshhh
pshhh pshhh. Rosie!”
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| The Holden Residents From back to front: Wiley, Spot, Skye |
It all began fall of 2011. At the time, it was my mom, dad,
and brother living at home with Spot, Skye, and Wiley. My sister was living in
Maryland as a working student. I had just returned to college for my sophomore
year of college.
From my brief calls home I began hearing things that summed
up to: Grammy Lou, cancer, and moving in. I was busy trying keeping up with classes,
extracurriculars, and soccer that updates were few and far between.
Grammy Lou moved in, along with Rosie.
Now, any pet owner knows that introducing a new pet to your
home… is a process. Couple that with having your grandmother/mother/mother-in-law,
depending on who you are in the situation, move in.
It’s chaos.
Grammy Lou began her chemotherapy for lung cancer. It did
not take long until we realized that lung cancer wasn’t the only thing we were
dealing with. And while the cancer was in remission, the dementia was coming on
full force. Like a nice graph showing a negative correlation between x and y.
But God bless my parents.
In addition to all the doctor’s appointments, the late night
cat fights (Rosie and Wiley did not really like each other at first), my
grandmother shuffling around wondering where she was and how to flush the
toilet, there was my father doing all he could to support the family while working
his ridiculous 40+ hour work week, and my momma did all she could keeping
up with her job, keeping the house together, caring for Lou Lou, and all the
pets. (Run on sentence? I don’t care that’s what my life felt like all of
sophomore year.)
Rosie started peeing everywhere; a behavioral problem that
occurs frequently when cats are actively telling you that they are unhappy. Her
meow was obnoxious, and she didn't want to be near any of us. My family considered
either giving her up for adoption… or the more unfavorable alternative.
But, real talk now- if you've ever met my family though, you
learn quickly our attachment to animals—be if the fur that’s attached to our
clothes that gives us away, or the fact that were 6 of them running around our house. And, if you've
ever met me, you would learn pretty quickly my feelings on putting an animal
down unnecessarily. So the second option was never really an option.
As Grammy Lou’s dementia worsened, Rosie began throwing up
around the house. More behavior problems? The vet diagnosed her with
hyperthyroid, which required a double dose of medicine every day.
An added chore, sleepless nights, worry, another auto-immune
illness, and a whole other world of things kept piling on my family. And I sat
at school.
And I sat at school. And I sat at school.
Stuck. Useless.
I went home every single weekend, that I could, just to be
there… to try and help. But there was nothing to do but make toast and tea, and
sit with Grammy Lou.
My sister moved home from Maryland, May 2012, with two more
cats: Boy and Girl. The family bonded too quickly with the kittens to force
them out.
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| Girl and Boy/The Kittens |
Two parents, two kids, two dogs, four cats, one grandmother.
The Holden household was bursting at the seams.
The dementia got to the point that a cloud of depression
began to loom over the bursting house. We were sinking.
That’s when Lou-Lou moved into the nursing home down the
road. My father would visit almost daily (not that she remembered that the next day). He
would bring her to church with us, and home for frequent visits so we could all
see her and spend time with her.
At least my family was able to get some sleep.
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| "The fat one that purrs before you even pet her." |
And that’s when I started bonding with Rosie Posy. With 4
cats running rampant, it’s difficult for people to differentiate between all of
them- my brother labeled her as “the fat one that purrs before you even start
to pet her.”
She would literally start purring like a motor as soon as
you sat next to her, waiting for you to pet her. She really liked her mouth scratched
where her old lady teeth had fallen out.
She was a shy cat, but she’d been through a lot as well.
Moving three times to a new place, 3 different owners, and now living with 5
other animals. She was old too.
When I was home, I was responsible for her medicine.
I had made the decision that she was mine, and I would take
her when I left home after I graduated college.
Grammy Lou passed away on December 30, 2012. Not
unexpectedly. And it had already felt like we lost her months before that date,
but it doesn't make it easy.
My family asked me to write and read the eulogy, and it
ripped me apart to mentally relive everything. And I cried. And Rosie walked
into my room, and just lay on my face, purring.
“I don’t have hands to bring you tissue, here’s my fur.” -Plop-
Over this past year, Rosie finally became comfortable with
all the people in the family: sitting on the couch with us watching TV, hanging
outside right off the porch, meowing a greeting when we entered into the
driveway.
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| Her favorite place to nap outside. |
She was struggling to breathe at one point over the summer,
and the vet found a cancerous tumor in her nose. It seemed the medication they gave her was helping, and the tumor wasn’t growing, until this week.
I saw her last week, a few sniffles but perfectly fine. But
over the course of the week the tumor grew. She struggled breathing most of the
time, and her right eye was watering constantly where the tumor pushed up on
it. My poor baby.
The vet tried softening the blow of the awful word: euthanasia. This would be the fourth and
final time we would call the vet for the same thing.
The previous three times the
family all agreed she had time left, and we weren't ready to play God.
And we wanted that. We dearly wanted that for the fourth
time too.
“Animal’s bodies are resilient.”
Aren’t they though? Like they are trying to hang on just to be with you.
Rosie, you can’t breathe.
Please stop looking so content.
But there was no getting better. Not from here.
I’m not meant to play God, and that makes this all the worse
for me, because I left the room while she was still purring.
It’s been a long journey Rosie Posy, sleep well and get some
rest. You deserve it.
