Over the years, we have taken in numerous cats who found themselves without staff to serve them. We were indiscriminate, welcoming any who were congenial with our other residents. We did insist that they sign away their rights to procreation, but we assumed all expenses related to sterilization. I think we were feeding nine of them at one time.
Eight years ago, one of Mike’s customers hired him to make some repairs to her mom’s house who had recently died. The house was to be sold and the resident cat was going to be “disposed of”. Kitty, as she was called, was young, healthy, and best of all, spayed. So we agreed to adopt her. Her dowry was this gorgeous print.

I suppose every cat is unique, but Ava (we couldn’t call her Kitty because it was too close to Gray Kitty who was still living when she moved in – you may remember Gray Kitty and Other Gray Kitty from previous posts) stood out with her suffer-no-fools attitude. From the moment she stepped out of the cat carrier, she assumed the mantle of supreme ruler. The other cats treated her with deference and the dogs gave her wide berth. After just a few days, she informed us that she was NOT an indoor cat and that she would come back inside when she felt so inclined.
She had suffered numerous health problems in the past, beginning in 2017, when we thought she was a goner; but the heroic vets always managed to pull her from heaven’s gate. They never could figure out what was ailing her but gave her IV fluids and antibiotics and sent her home to die. Over the years, she cashed in four of her nine lives but this time, she must have run out. It appeared that she had a tumor in her jaw that was horrifically painful. There was no point in prolonging her suffering. Our family vet, who has seen me through more losses than either he or I care to remember, kindly released her on the operating table.
We missed her last night, as she was a terrible bed hog, and (of course) Mike is bereft. If you like to believe in life-after-death stuff, you might like to think she has connected with her former staff, and that now her open-mouthed purring is soothing her to sleep.

She does appear quite regal. My deepest sympathy. I hope Mike can hold onto the good memories…
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Down to one. SHe’s 14 or 15. She might outlive us. But when she’s gone? No more litterbox.
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Mike has been saying no more cats for the last five years, but then one comes along and he can’t turn them away. Our youngest is just over two years old so will probably go to the nursing home with us.
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So well written (and captioned) that I almost lost track of the underlying sadness to the post. A fitting tribute.
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So sorry, JRR. May Ava RIP. Queen of the house was beautiful.
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