by Amanda Arvickson
Daisy was given to me for my 7th birthday by my Uncle Bill. "I just grabbed the first cat that ran by." He said. She was three months old, and full of energy and spunk. We weren't supposed to have any pets in our house, but we made an exception for Daisy. Each year brought a new experience for me, and for Daisy. She was a beautiful cat. Short haired tiger striped tabby with huge bright green eyes that stared into my soul. She was always so scruffy looking, but she purred louder than a jet airplane taking off. You could hear her from across the room. After several years, we got another cat. Daisy was not happy, but the new kitten knew that Daisy was queen. In 1995, we moved into our new house. We had 5 cats when we moved. I was almost 18. Over the next three years, we got two more cats. My mom always said she kept getting cats because she knew someday Daisy would be gone. She wanted a cat that purred as loud as Daisy did, and that's when we got Castor. Castor was a tiger striped tabby just like Daisy and purred just as loud. We often got the two of them confused because they looked so much alike. Daisy was diagnosed with mammory cancer in November of 1999. She had just turned 15. The doctors said the cancer was in its early stages, but they did not want to operate because Daisy was so old. "The cancer won't kill her." They said. "She'll die of old age first." In a way that was a relief, but I realized then that life is so precious, and that we take advantage of our pets. Daisy was so old, and our little kitten Sascha is so young and full of life. All of our cats are so very special to my mother and me. On Thursday, March 9, 2000, I came home from school and got a can of food for Daisy. She hadn't eaten in almost 2 days, and she was having trouble breathing, but she purred and purred. She was content. I called my mom, then I called the vet. They wanted me to bring her in. I knew this would be the last time Daisy would sleep in her spot on the bathroom floor, or meow at me for picking her up and disturbing her rest, or look at me longingly with those huge green eyes that stared into my soul. I wrapped her up in a blanket and got into the car. My fiancee and I picked up my mother at work and took her to the vet. "It's only a matter of a short time." The vet said to us. My mother wept, I was numb. I had tried to prepare myself for this, but you can never truly prepare. Did we want to wait it out, or let her go? I didn't want to let her go, but I couldn't bear it if we took her home and she began to suffer. I held her close to me and heard her purring. It broke my heart. She purred so loud even the vet made a comment. "It means she's not in any pain." We laid her on the table and held her as they put the needle in. She purred. She laid her head down and looked at me with her huge green eyes. "Unlce Bill will take care of me." She seemed to say. "Don't worry." She purred right up until then end. When it was over, I cut off her flea collar and gave it to my mother. The vet cut off some of her fur and a few of her whiskers and put them into a little bag for us. We are having her cremated. She will always remain with us. I pray that my Uncle Bill, who passed in 1993, has his arms around my baby, and is holding her for me until I can hold her again. Thank you Uncle Bill, for grabbing the first cat that "ran by."