rip

My old cat died last night. She was 18 1/2 and in declining health, so it wasn't unexpected. And still. I realized that it's been a long time since I was touched by death. Almost 10 years ago, there were a lot of deaths: grandparents, mentors, fiance of a friend, babies. But, not a lot since then.

Anyway, she was an old cat and she lived a good long time. Her kidneys were failing her and she hated the special diet food we had to give her, so she had lost a lot of weight in the last couple of months. Her mind was going (gone?), along with her hearing and she had pretty severe arthritis in her back hips and legs. She was the Chat Lunatique.

She was a crotchety old cat. She was born during the Reagan administration and lived through George the first, the Clinton years, and well into the reign of George the second. She outlived her namesake (Spalding Gray) and all of her contemporaries. She had many devoted fans in several states.

I found her by myself this morning (the Mr is out of town). I think I was in shock then because I was able to compartmentalize it. All I felt was relief that she was no longer in pain and that we weren't forced to make that hard decision. I was able to deal with her body, and call the Mr for advice on what to do. But now, I can't stop thinking about her and how I wish I could have been with her when she died and made her last hours more comfortable. Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but I can't stop crying. (My new cube neighbor must think I'm losing it - I've cried three or four times in the three weeks since he started.)

Our furnace has been out of commission since Thursday (they discovered a CO leak and the part had to be ordered), so we've been heating little sections of the house with a "radiator-style" oil space heater. Last night, Spald was parked in front of that heater with her nose poked in between the sections. She looked so funny, praying to the heater god, that I took a bunch of pictures of her.

RIP Spald. We will miss you.