ivy-charlie.JPG 

      I said goodbye to a longtime friend today.  Ivy (named after the creeping vines that cover the walls at Wrigley field) had been with me for more than 11 years .   Within a couple of short months she went from a healthy, affectionate, slightly sassy cat with a gorgeous silky black coat, to an absolute shadow of herself.

The vet said her kidneys just gave out. ivy-cal.JPG

     Before Ian accompanied her to the vet today (bless him for volunteering to do it because I didn’t want her to be alone) we gave the kids a chance to say goodbye, and tried to explain what was happening.  I was worried it would hit them hard. Instead, I was the one choking back tears as they accepted the news in a stunningly matter-of-fact way. “Ivy’s died. She got really sick. But we still have Tucker.” (our other cat.)  

 It’s funny how in grieving for  a pet, I think you grieve for the chapter of your life they represented.  Ivy was a huge sign of independence for me. As a young professional, out on my own, I wanted company in my humble apartment, and realized I was grown-up enough to take care of my very own pet.  I considered myself a “dog person, ” but since they weren’t allowed where I lived, I thought maybe a visit to the Humane Society could convince me cats were okay.

     That tiny paw reached out to me from a cage at the Humane Society, and unbelievably to me, I became a “cat person in an instant.”  I didn’t choose Ivy - she chose me.

   When Ian came into the picture several years later, that little cat’s jealous streak needed some serious taming.  Luckily he’s magical with animals. Ian got her wrapped around his finger, and they came to an “understanding” as he likes to say. 

       We have fond memories of all the hissing, growling, paws-flying-hair-raising squabbles that erupted when we merged our pet families - but eventually the menagerie adapted, and sometimes even liked each other. 

     While Ivy wasn’t much into sharing her turf with other animals, she was a “people-cat,” even to those who didn’t consider themselves “cat people.”  Guests at our house would constantly find her curled right up on their lap or chest, her loud motor purring.  

Somewhere tonight, I’ll bet Ivy is ruling her own turf once again - curled up on a welcoming lap like the Queen Cat she was meant to be, purring.

Thanks for listening-

Trisha