Goodbye to Pretty Girl

Tomorrow is Chessie's last day on the planet. All that money to have her teeth pulled and try to make her comfortable didn't buy her much time at all. Her diagnosis is that she has a fast-moving, aggressive, painful cancer spreading throughout her jaw. It's in her bones and it's relentless. Her quality of life is much minimized, and I can't afford to give her pain meds round the clock for the next two to three months, which is all that is predicted for her. No radiation, no surgery, just pain until she goes. So I'm going to help her out by relieving her of the pain. I will be there and I will hold her. Just like I did for Tobias last summer. Last year, it was on my brother's birthday. This year, it will be on Cindi's birthday. I know I would never forget the dates regardless of who shares them.

When Toby passed, I wrote a lengthy blog with all the pet names (pun intended) I had for him, and the song I used to sing for him, and pictures, and heartbreak, and I still sometimes cry at night when I can't sleep. I'll admit it. I invested far too much of myself in his 13 years. He was there for me through a farce of a marriage and a difficult pregnancy and a tough few years where I tried to pretend nothing was wrong and that I wasn't doing it all by myself before the divorce actually began. He was my rock, one of the only sources of love in my entire life.

And Chessie was right there beside him. Before him, actually. She was one year older, and paved the way for all the other animals that arrived after her. Without her, I wouldn't have had any animals at all. One Christmas, when my ex still liked me and could stand the sight of me, he had a neighbor dress as Santa Claus and bring a tiny silver kitten to me in my house. He previously had said we could never have animals. He turned out to be responsible for most of the animals I have today.

Chessie looked just like the kitten in the ads for the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, where their motto is "You'll Sleep Like a Kitten on the Chessie System," for passenger rail. She was so smart, right from the beginning. She learned her name and sat on my shoulder like a bird. She loved it when I smoked (yes, I used to smoke) and if I ate bananas, she would groom my fingers clean. She learned how to pop open the screen and go outside and she would turn on the water from the faucet. She knew that Bonkers were snacks, and if I said, "Kiss mama," she would lick my face. I made up a song just for her, and I think she liked it. It's personal. I'm going to keep between the two of us.

The thing Chessie did best was take away the pain. Any kind of pain. Whenever I was hurt, she was there. I would feel a paw on my arm or leg or foot, and I would look down and there she was, just laying there, absorbing all my pain, telling me she loves me and she always will.

Now it's my turn.