My cat's name was Pishy, like fishy with a "p". It's a nickname my grandmother and father used meaning "kitty" in Farsi.
Christmas of 1995, I was six years old. On the plane back home from spending christmas with my family, I drew a picture for my parents of what I expected to be under the tree when I got home. I showed the picture to my mother, she showed it to my dad. I drew a beautiful, intricatly woven basket holding the most precious of cargo, a little kitten. I wanted a baby of my own to care for, a little playmate and a pet. My mother told me Santa had left my kitty at the shelter to be cared for and we needed to pick her up. I was so excited to see my kitty, but my mom made me wait in the lobby and I looked at the older cats, wondering if they were presents from Santa for another little girl.
Unbeknownst to me or my mother, there was only one litter of kitten this winter and all but one got sick and died. The one survivor, was my kitty.
On the ride home, I sat in the font seat, admiring my new baby and decided to call her "Honey-dew" because of her light golden/cream coloring. She had the most beautiful green eyes. I never used that name to call her, in fact that name was soon forgotten as we started calling her "Pishy".
I spent 15 years with her, had her de-clawed, *which I will never do to another cat again, I'm sorry Pishy, if I could I would take it back ;( *, brushed her, pet her, loved her, fed her, cleaned her box, and later, cleaned up regurgitated food when she couldn't digest anymore.
I remember vividly the huntress she was. She was a wild cat a heart, always escaping somehow and bringing her momma a "present", usually a bird or a rabbit who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. One day, she killed a rabbit in our house, it looked like a homicide had taken place, but Pishy was very self satisfied and happy, at the time all I could be was impressed, I was only 8.
She was very fiesty at night, she got a burst of energy when the sun came down, and I learned very quickly that if I wanted to get some sleep, I had to get the cat out of my room at night. She protested for I believe over a year, constantly calling and meowing to gain entrance, only to be turned away. She only slept during the day right in the middle of my pillow.
When we got a dog, about 8 years later, Pishy was not happy. She didn't like other animals, and was very territorial. When we got our 6 month old Springer Spaniel, I made sure Pishy could always find a safe space in my room, a place that I vigorously defended from my curious canine.
She had the worst meow of them all. In fact, an I feel terrible about this, there were times I didn't want to be around her because she wouldn't be quiet. But she loved me, I recently decided to take a new approach, and talk back to her. I would ask her how her day was and she would screech and scream with delight. Sometimes I took her for granted, assuming she would always be there.
I didn't know how much she really ment to me until she got sick. Her behavior changed, she stopped eating and I didn't come home to find her laying on my clean laundry, something she would never pass up. She had hidden behind our rarely used living room couch, a place she knew the dog would leave her alone.
I was worried when, on the third day, she wouldn't eat or drink and hadn't for about a week. My parents knew it was her time, but I couldn't believe it. She was okay just a few days ago. I took her to the vet, a place she hates with the fire of hell, because i needed to know. She was weak but made many protests as the doctor took her x-ray and sonogram.
She came back a hour later to tell me my cat had a tumor on her pancreas and speen, and the prognosis wasn't good. I waited to break down after she had left the room. My cousin came and I cried on her shoulder. All I could say when she asked me what was wrong was, "She's done." The doctor gave her 24 hours of fluid and I took her home crying.
She spent her last afternoon on the patio that day, I put her on her favorite chair while I looked up everything I could on the internet, that's when I found RainbowsBridge.
I tried to make her last 4 days comfortable; I put a blanket in her hiding spot, she didn't use it as much as I wanted, preferring to lay on the cold tile. I visited her often and spent time petting her frail body and watching her breathing get more and more difficult. They day after the diagnosis, my dad asked me if I wanted to put her down. No, I needed more time, she wasn't ready, I couldn't do it.
Over the weekend, I came to terms with what was happening, understanding that I had no power to stop the disease, only ending her life. I couldn't do it.
On Sunday I made up my mind that if she was still suffering on Monday, I would help her out the door, across the bridge. I spent my last moments with her, early monday morning, I could feel everything beneath her skin, she was all bones. She meowed to me and I made her purr, even though it was hard of me to see her like that. I still remember how loud she was purring that last time, I could hear it across the house.
My mother woke me the next morning with the news of her passing. My parents out her body in a boot box wrapped in a blanket. I had to see her, to know she was really gone. I'll never forget that image, sometimes I regret looking, sometimes I don't.
I am still as unsure of my decision as I was last weekend, but I'm glad she had control of her death. She picked the spot, she knew she needed to be isolated. I couldn't take her back to the vet, she hated it, I wanted her last moments to be peaceful, not traumatic.
I miss my Pishy cat all the time. My friends have been very supportive, but this loss is very personal. I am not going to bring another cat into this house, this is Pishy's territory and will always be as long as I live here.
I miss my cat and the unconditional love she showed me. I miss all the hair in my nose, I miss her smell and her terrible meow more than I could ever imagine. I miss her so much. I miss her greeting me at the laundry room door after she heard the garage door open, she alway knew when I was home.
I have many regrets, many things I would do over again, but I would always make the decision to keep her and love her. I miss her soft fur so much it hurts. It's only been two days.
Pishy was in my dreams last night. I thought she was gone but she came back and she was healthy and meowing on the patio, her favorite spot in the sun.
I'm not perfect, but I was to her.
I really need that in my life right now, I need my cat. I need my Pishy with me.