We buried Sweet Pea today. People who know the love of a pet, know how tough it is to say goodbye. I'll just write a few words to mark her passing. Sweet Pea, who arrived in my greenhouse and gave birth the summer of 2001, now lies under the Ginko tree in the back yard. She was preceded in death by her mate "Old Whitey" who died long ago, and a son, Bootsie Bell, who died
in 2006. She is survived by Sambo, her youngest, a daughter. Sweet Pea and Sambo never got along but managed to co-exist the last 9 years of their lives together, without drawing blood.
Sweet Pea was known early in her life for her hunting abilities, and also her keen intellect. A Tuxedo cat, she had the classic markings except for a spot on her left front toe.
She will be sadly missed by people who visited with her here.
Sambo is now the Queen of the House and probably won't shed many tears.
Monday, September 23, 2019
Sunday, September 8, 2019
19 Cat Years
Things aren't going well for Sweet Pea. She's been my near constant companion for so long now, I just assumed she would be here forever. Like that science fiction story that Harlan Ellison wrote about a boy named Jefty. Jefty was Five. He was Always Five. Jefty never grew up and got old.
It made for a strange story.
Sweet Pea showed up here pregnant all those years ago and gave birth to kittens in my greenhouse. Two of them survived. Sweet Pea was so small. She was always a petite cat. I think that was the problem.
Boots Bell was her beloved boy kitten. He died young back around 2006, when he was hit by a car. The dear cat climbed all the way up the double terrace to die under a bush by the house. Sweet Pea climbed right in beside him. That was her boy. She followed my bro-in-law to the woods where he
buried him. She knew. She had also lost her mate, "Old Whitey," a stray cat with a broken tail, on the same highway.
But Sweet Pea became an inside cat after only a few years. Inside cats live longer, and better. Her other kitten, a female, became my mom's cat. She is still here, too. But Sweet Pea never liked Little Sambo, the runt kitten. They are still hissing at each other today. (Usually when one passes by too closely to the other.)
Well, I'm tired. Decisions have to made and I can't make them right now. I'll just go hug Sweet Pea
a little closer. She knows me. But in addition to being very sick, she is starting to act bewildered.
Like life is washing over her and she is powerless to really grasp it.
It made for a strange story.
Sweet Pea showed up here pregnant all those years ago and gave birth to kittens in my greenhouse. Two of them survived. Sweet Pea was so small. She was always a petite cat. I think that was the problem.
Boots Bell was her beloved boy kitten. He died young back around 2006, when he was hit by a car. The dear cat climbed all the way up the double terrace to die under a bush by the house. Sweet Pea climbed right in beside him. That was her boy. She followed my bro-in-law to the woods where he
buried him. She knew. She had also lost her mate, "Old Whitey," a stray cat with a broken tail, on the same highway.
But Sweet Pea became an inside cat after only a few years. Inside cats live longer, and better. Her other kitten, a female, became my mom's cat. She is still here, too. But Sweet Pea never liked Little Sambo, the runt kitten. They are still hissing at each other today. (Usually when one passes by too closely to the other.)
Well, I'm tired. Decisions have to made and I can't make them right now. I'll just go hug Sweet Pea
a little closer. She knows me. But in addition to being very sick, she is starting to act bewildered.
Like life is washing over her and she is powerless to really grasp it.
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