The Queen is Dead by java girl o'hara

The Queen is Dead

by java girl o'hara

The Queen is Dead The little calico girl that came my way eleven years ago has died. The previous owners, named her P.F. What a dopey name and what did it stand for? No one ever knew. I came to call her Baby Girl, Poopie and The Most Beautiful Cat in the Whole World., Yes You Are. On September 24, 2004, while I was as work, that beautiful , brave , loving little companion of mine breathed her last. Crawled under a bed in her little apartment in the back of the house, she lay, soft and yielding to illness yet striving to live. All medicines were given her, including Rescue Remedy, which I thank God I had on hand as it must have soothed her final days, calming and relieving the stress of her illness. What was it again, congestive heart failure, he said when I picked her up from the hospital on September 18, 2004. Was he even sure? I feel guilty. I feel careless. I feel I failed her in some way. She was fine until I took her for dental surgery in December 2003. An indoor cat, she had had no shots until that December. She became weak a few months later with legs wobbly and I took her in. Undisclosed origin of fever he said. No reason? I took her home. He gave her a two bottle dose of antibiotics which she took without problem. PF was okay for a whileagain, she was weak in July. Had her checked out again. Nothing wrong he said. In August I had her checked again for lethargy and he said she has a few fleas and dosed her with that poison they put on the necks of animals.. Will that help her I said. He said, with that medicine, she is in effect a flea killing machine. But in fact, now I think that this medicine on her neck invaded her system and the flea medicine was in effect a cat killing machine. Vacation time, Sept 10 to l7, 2004. PF seeemd lethargic and had a swelling on one side of her belly. I took her to the vet, pleaded with him to keep her in hospital and care for any illness she showed. Picked her up Sept. 18, 2004 a sunny Saturday morning. Her belly was still distended but the care person said PF had pooped and eaten. Went home with two kinds of pills for her to take. Good luck with the med the care taker person said. What did that mean? Three days later her appetite faltered and never really came back. She lay in the carrier in her room. I gave her pills crushed in kitty milk with an eye dropper and water with an eye dropper. I tried all her old favorite food in tiny little teaspoons, but she looked away. I decided after much much soul searching to make her comfortable at home as long as she was not in any pain instead of taking her to the place she hated, The Vets. Still I felt like a monster. On Friday morning, September 24, 2004, I gave her her medications, and a little water, I bathed her head and upper body with a baby washcloth wrung out in warm water, She seemed to like that. I petted her and called her my baby and the most beautiful cat in the world. As I closed the door to her room, I said I love you, PF. You are my baby and went to work. I could not bear to go home at 5:30. But I bought boiled ham and gravy to try to feed her when I did get home. I prepared her meds and water and a warm wash cloth and opened the door to her room. No furry little calico cat jumped up on the table by the door. No sweet little girl cat walked out of the carrier. I saw her leg and tail sticking out from under the bed. I bent down to touch her head. Her beautiful green eyes were open. I closed them. Her body was cold and somewhat stiff.. She must have died shortly after I left for work on Friday. I felt an immediate large area of pain and hurting in my stomach and my chest. My head started to swim and tears fell onto the floor. I pulled out her old soft cat bed and put her in it and covered her with my old orange tee shirt which she had had with her in the hospital. I left the radio and the night light on, put her up on the bed and went downstairs realizing that there would be no more little heartbeat in the house each day. The heartbeat of the house was stilled. I buried her along the fence in the garden in her little bed with the tee shirt blanketing her little body and inside of two larg brown paper bags protecting her from any dirt. It was a very hard thing for me to do, but I had loved her and she loved me. I dug a hole deep enough and placed her little bed and PF into the earth. I covered her up. The sun was shining, it was early Saturday morning, 10:30 a.m. I had gone to the Lalor Market and found a pot of mums with flowers the exact color of the orange in PFs coat. I placed those flowers on top of her grave. I left her and a big piece of my heart there in the back yard, the garden behind my house. I miss her. I will miss her for a long time. I keep thinking I have to go upstairs to see her, or put her light on for the night or give her the fancy feast meals she liked so much. Every house needs a little heartbeat in it. PF was the little heartbeat that existed in the house each and every day. My house has no heartbeat now. What am I to do, without a heart?

Comments would be appreciated by the author, java girl o'har