Remembering Daisy, who we lost just one year ago today…
We lost our little girl yesterday, one of the sweetest and surely the bravest kitty I’ve ever known.
After weeks of watching Daisy lose weight, slow down and vomit all over the house, a diagnosis was finally made. On Tuesday, an ultrasound revealed a mass in her stomach. Larry and I had agreed not to prolong her life, in the event of a terminal illness – and here we were. Our vet supported our decision to let her go, peacefully and with the dignity that she deserved.
It is a quiet house this morning, with Larry off at a meeting and Buddy sleeping on my pillow, seemingly unmoved by his sister’s absence. After spending the past few days near to or by her side, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve put away her collection of toys and lugged the climbing toy to the curb to be claimed by another family. I threw out the partially eaten cans of special treat food, as well as the nasty tasting anti-nausea pills and the thyroid medicine she hated taking twice a day. All I can remember is how quietly she sat yesterday morning. She was such a presence in the household and now she is gone.
I am lost in memories of the thirteen years Daisy was a member of our family. A ball of energy who ran so fast through our house that she often skidded down the wood floors, Daisy was, in a word, “fearless”. Unlike her shy brother, Buddy, Daisy met the challenges of life full on. Workmen were investigated and “supervised” by Miss Daisy, especially during our kitchen and then bathroom remodels. While Buddy hid under the bed, Daisy greeted guests at the door with a loud “hello” and always inspected purses, bags and any boxes that came into the house. She was a “talker” and loved to tell us about her day, what had pleased her, what had not. Always an explorer and fierce hunter, no pile of clean laundry or stray water bug was safe from our girl.
I want to be as fearless as my little Daisy was, to have that brave outlook on the world. Her demands were sometimes taxing, but she usually got what she wanted, including a daily bath from her brother.
Her strong spirit stayed with her until the end. I smiled during a final visit to the garden, as she rolled over and over on her back, one last time. I held her in my arms, standing in the sunshine, and we both gazed at the trees moving in the breeze and one beautiful Monarch butterfly. I recalled the line from some children’s poem, “Goodbye, goodbye – to everything”.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be as brave as Daisy. We said our goodbyes at home, and Larry made that final trip to the vet with her. He later told me that, surprisingly, Daisy had actually purred at the vet’s, something I didn’t understand, at first. Today, I wonder if she didn’t know exactly what was going on and had faced her next journey, embracing the moment – fearlessly.
Farewell, my sweet angel.