Make things better by looking ahead....

[sage]

Hey Jim and Jeannine (and everyone else!) -- Thanks so much for your support and kind words.

Jeannine, reading your words made me feel whole again -- and reminded me so well that it's perfectly fine for me to FEEL what I FEEL.

Jim, what did we have for lunch at the Mexican restaurant?? We had plans to go out for burritos last night but....

well, unfortunately, we had to put our sweet girl, Owen to sleep last night. The tumor had invaded her eye and for the first time in this LONG battle, she seemed in pain, uncomfortable. We spent some time patting her, comforting her, being with her...and we were both with her at the end. She was brave and loving and beautiful.

So...why was Owen named Owen if she was a she? Well, it's darned hard to tell the sex of a kitten if you're just a layperson!!! I got her about 12 years ago from a guy I worked with...she was a "barn kitten" -- I knew she was the one because she was crawling all over her siblings. "I want a boy" I said, and they handed her over....I named her "Owen" after the character "Owen Meany" (from the John Irving book). Image my surprise when the vet informed me a week later that well, he was a she!

She was a fiesty kitten that drove me crazy in my small apartment -- one time I had a mouse "in the house" and Owen caught it as it was trying to escape under the closed bedroom door! Boy, she was quick with those paws! In her early years, she would sit ontop of bureaus and swipe my mother with her paws when she walked by (Owen was clearly insightful if she was trying to smack my mother around -- trust me on that one! )

Her R with my h was very stormy at first -- h was allergic to cats and Owen was stubborn and liked to use her claws a lot -- on both the furniture AND people. She became an outdoor cat for a while and loved to roam around. THAT came to an end quickly when she was hit by a car one early Sunday morning in December a few years ago...h and I were on our way out and we saw Owen bravely trying to make her way home -- obviously injured. She had been hit in the head and the vet was upfront -- there was no real way to know the extent of the damage and she might not live. She had also broken her jaw so they wired that together.

She came home after a few horrible days and we were on pins and needles. She was listless and had trouble walking and we were on hyper alert for signs of brain damage. She wouldn't eat so we had to feed her with a syringe of food. She fought us valiantly but eventually we got enough food into her that she started rallying...first it was climbing the stairs, then jumping into the tub for water. I cannot duplicate the euphoria in my h's voice when he reported to me that Owen had taken a poop in the litter box for the first time since the accident!

Everything changed after the accident -- Owen became loving and affectionate in a way that she had never been before. She was thirstier for some reason. And, she was afraid of thunderstorms, too. H and Owen bonded then, too. They became great friends. H's allergies became minimal. After the accident, it was easier to NOT take Owen for granted -- when you feel the urge to yell at her or be impatient, you'd remember what you almost lost and find yourself more calm again.

She loved to eat people food -- turkey was a favorite, poached eggs and toast, too. She was a big fan of carbos! She loved hermits (but not the raisins) and Portuguese sweet bread that my dad makes for Easter -- she just had some a few weeks ago!

Around the time of the bomb we noticed a lump on Owen's head. After a trip to a crappy vet, we took her back to the place that treated her after the accident. They told us she had a tumor in her skull. More tests, some radiation, a harrowing surgery (not to remove the tumor -- it was inoperable) and a terrible week of Owen being a "cone head" and we were back on track. We knew her time was short but she made the most of it. The tumor shrunk and for a few months we naively thought all was well in the world.

It's been fortuitous that h has been home with Owen during this time. He's been with her at every doctor's appointment and each day they've spent together. That wouldn't have happened if the rest of our crap hadn't happened...('cause H wouldn't have quit his job if the a hadn't occurred!). H had a way of calming Owen that I never did. He learned all about how she liked to be patted -- he'd tell me -- don't touch her there, she doesn't like it -- do this instead. He taught her to respond to whistling, perfected the "meat hook" head rub, gave her a warm lap to sit in.

Her hair grew back white after the radiation (she was mostly black). That added another nickname to the repertoire -- "white eyed gansta rap" -- now I had even more names to call her -- "O", "Snoop Snuggly".

The last month had been tough. The tumor came back full force and it quickly invaded her eye. She held on and was stoic but yesterday was too much. Instead of hiding like they say cats do, Owen plopped herself down with us and let us know it was now too much.

We had wonderful hours before it was time. She knew she was loved and we know she loved us too. We'll be burying our sweet girl in our garden so she'll always be with us.

Sage