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Originally uploaded by treefrog girl.
My cat died. She was my mom and dad’s cat now since I had to give her and George and Gordon up when I moved here- but she was still my baby.
I moved to Seattle in 1995 just before my 25th birthday. I mentioned to Meredith that I might want a cat. Her sister Melissa worked as a receptionist at a vet and had seen Garbo when she was a kitten and told her owners that if they ever needed to re-home her to let her know.
When Garbo was nine months old, they called Melissa and she hooked me up.
They had given her the name Bandita because it looked like she had a little Zorro mask on. I renamed her Garbo because the moment a stranger came in she would scuttle off to hide and she was absolutely gorgeous.
She was a tiny little thing until you gave her a bath and you realized she was even smaller than you thought because of her fur. She had a little pig birth defect tail that had this puff of fur that grew off of it so she looked a bit like a bunny from behind.
The people she owned before me had had her declawed (which I am fundamentally against) but she could take care of herself. In Seattle a pigeon flew into my apartment and she scared it half to death holding it down. In LA one day I came home to find a dead mouse in the middle of the living room. There were no marks on it. Whenever George got a bit sassy or invaded her space, she would put him in his place. Claws or no claws she would bat him back into the next decade.
The last few years in LA when she would jump down from the top of the armoire, it wasn’t so much a jump as she would lean over the edge and let gravity pull her over.
My Mom and Gary I think were happy when I decided to not bring my cats with me to the UK because they called dibs on Garbo. I never had to worry about re-homing her.
Even though she could be shy and allusive, she would cuddle up to you.
Tonight Mom called me from the vet. Garbo had been acting a bit off the last few days. Something wasn’t right. Mom wanted to know if it was bad- if they could. . . should they try to wait until I saw her at Christmas.
I said that if she was in pain, then they should put her down but if she was just old. . . then. . . well I wanted to see her.
About ten minutes later my Mom called back. Garbo had died in her arms. They had called her in to be examined and then she just died.
The vet didn’t even charge them (which is the right thing to do). They said they thought it was her kidneys.
I know she was an old kitty, but I am rather upset. I know she was just a cat, but she was such a sweet soul.
November 28th, 2007 at 12:20 am
Garbo has brought me so much joy and comfort.
Things are put in your life for a reason. This tiny bit of fur most definitely was - I could go on and on about her but I will tell you just one story. About 10 days ago I could not sleep. A worry that just was there. Then this special - oh so special creature of God jumped on our bed and snuggled and just made me feel joy. Yes true joy and I felt thankful for all I have been given.
To night Gary & I put her in a tin filing box. We put her on a cuddle towel. In the box is a can of food she loved with a note.
Gary said he hopes she haunts us. So do I.