Prissy LOVED licking the lid of my Starbucks’ Frapps. A more spoiled cat never lived – and few have lived as long. Maybe Starbucks really is as magical as I believe it is.
Under the category of frustrating, I’m filing this fact: Thanks to the ice storm, we still don’t have any power. We have a few lamps, the computer, and (was there any doubt) the coffee pot running off of a generator.
And I’ve always loved winter so much.
Under the category of positively heartbreaking, you’ll find this: We lost our 20 year old much beloved, pampered, cherished, and beautiful cat Prissy two nights ago. This past year, alone, she lived through two strokes as well as slowly going blind. Her toughness was only surpassed by her beautiful attitude.
Two days ago, it became painfully obvious that I was losing one of the brightest lights of joy in my life for over 20 years. My husband and I have said, all along, that if there was ever a sign of suffering (in any way), we’d make the most painful drive to a vet imaginable.
Prissy decided to spare us the agonizing trip and went peacefully on her own terms.
I knew the end had come when she stopped eating. Food, to Prissy, was what coffee and chocolate are to me. Her passion for eating honestly could only be compared to my passion for the two C ‘s. Saturday morning, when I opened her packet of Whiska’s and, instead of meowing happily, she just kept hanging her head, tears ran down my face as I braced myself for saying goodbye.
I wrapped her in her pink baby blanket and held her in front of a heater. She never stopped purring. That always amazed me about her. Until her blindness and first stroke (at 20), she had only been sick once – a sinus infection when she was only 4. The veterinarian, then, remarked about her wonderful nature. She never lost it.
Saturday night, I had her all bundled up and lying in her warm bed but she wandered out of it in favor of lying on the floor. So we did that.
I told her how much happiness she has brought into my life and lost track of the number of times I told her what a good and beautiful girl she was. She was incredibly, incredibly vain so she lapped up the compliments like she once lapped up salmon. She honestly laid on the floor purring. Toward the very end, she was breathing kind of heavy and let out a few odd meows – but each time I kissed her head or rubbed her…. she purred.
I’ve had cats all my life (and still have 3 that I love terribly). I’m fascinated by their independence, their intelligence, their playfulness, their arrogance, and their beauty. Whenever a cat purrs, I’ve always thought of it as their way of smiling.
Prissy always smiled. Hopefully in a few days I’ll remember how it’s done.