She adopted me eight years ago. That's one reason this cat is so special to me. No one ever chose me before. I was always the one left out, the reject nobody wanted. As a result, I had built a strong wall around my heart for protection. When this cat chose me and finally wore me down, a very special bond was formed between us.
I had adopted four cats at different times prior to moving into my first home. About three months after I moved in, this black cat showed up in the neighborhood. We all believed she had been thrown out by some folks who had moved out of the neighborhood a few days earlier. My neighbor, who was a dear friend, fed her and called her Black Kitty. My neighbor didn't take her in because she had a white cat that didn't like Black Kitty, so Black Kitty remained an outside cat. Every day without fail Black Kitty would come over to my house during the day and sit on the wide window ledge outside my kitchen, looking in at my cats. She would sit there even after dark, when I had the curtains closed, trying to see inside, and meowing to be let in.
She kept coming to my door and meowing to be let in, I kept telling her that I couldn't take in any more cats, and she kept sitting in the window ledge, asking to be let in. September and October went by with us playing out this little routine. November came, and with it the first cold night of the season (I live in Florida). I took some trash out about 10:00 p.m. It was in the low fifties, and starting to drizzle. Black Kitty was in her spot on the window ledge by the kitchen, as usual. She gave me this plaintive meow, and a look that said, "Hey, I'm cold and wet. Help me!" I brought her inside, and she stayed there for the next eight years, enriching my life with her presence. Since she was used to the name, "Black Kitty," I just kept calling her that. I had a little song I made up that was just for her and always told her how very pretty she was.
She came down with something serious in May of this year, but fought hard to live. The vet wanted to put her down six weeks ago, but I said no because she was fighting so hard to live. I gave her antibiotics every day, as well as kitty vitamins, but she just couldn't shake off the virus, or what ever it was. Thursday morning I got up about 5:45 to go to the bathroom, and saw her lying on the floor. She had had a stroke sometime between midnight and when I got up. I could tell that she could not see, and she could not stand. I carried her into the living room and sat and held her. I told her it was ok to let go and go ahead to Heaven while I held her and stroked her fur, and she started to go. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowed, and at one point her tongue hung out. She was very close to being gone, but unfortunately I couldn't hold it together any longer and started to cry. I don't know if you will believe this or not, but she came back to her old, sick, damaged body to be with me a while longer. I kept telling her to let go and go home to Heaven, but she wouldn't. All she wanted was to be held in my arms, so I just held her for a long time. I knew she was suffering, and she wasn't going to let go on her own, so I finally called the vet and asked if they could put her to sleep.
When we got to his office, I held her close and told her good by, that I loved her, and that it was ok to let go and go to Heaven, but she still wouldn't. The vet gave her one shot and said he was amazed at how hard she was fighting to live. He said he had given her enough medication to put down a dog twice her size. He actually gave her a second shot before she went home to Heaven. I told him that was why I had not brought her in sooner. Her quality of life had been pretty good until that morning, and she was trying so hard to live, but after the stroke it wasn't right to ask her to stay any longer, so we made that final trip to the vet's office.
I can't get over what an awesome, incredible act of sacrificial love it was for her to come back to her old, sick, and damaged body to be with me for a few more hours. I'll never know the amount of pain she must have endured, but I'm sure it was substantial. I wish for her sake she had just gone, but she wouldn't. I have never experienced that enormous kind of love before, and it leaves me in awe. She chose me, she blessed my life with her presence daily, and in the end she came back and spent just a little while longer with me. I'm glad she is no longer hurting, and I know I'll see her again someday in Heaven, but the void her passing leaves in my heart is huge. I buried her in the back yard, next to my favorite bush, and she will always have a huge place in my heart. She is one of my precious "surrogate children," and it feels like there has been a death in my family.
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