Saying Good-bye to Purrl Jamz

I named her Purrl because her color reminded me of a gray pearl. What a cat face, though, huh? So beautiful. And, as a kitten, she was the purringest cat ever.

Last week I had to say good-bye to her. She was only eight years old. I was not expecting to lose her.

When Purrl was two years old, she was poisoned, and she never fully recovered from that awful experience. And I'd rather not talk about that in this post.

Last fall, she began to lose weight rapidly and show signs that she was ill. There followed a trip to the vet and blood work, and I don't want to talk about that, either.

In this venue, I'd rather just talk about the feline diva who had a rough start in life but came to be the queen of my home. (Oh yes, we all recognized Her Majesty as the monarch of the house--I did, the dogs did, Jenny did, and anyone visiting definitely did.)

This is her baby picture:

 

A friend found her, abandoned in a parking lot, in need of rescue, and I was the unwitting human who saw the Facebook post and couldn't say no to a little gray kitten in need of a home. I had Sugar Plum then, and Sug had said, "Absolutely not" to any second cat I had tried to introduce her to. Until Purrl. When I brought that mewling kitten home and opened the carrier to let her out, Sug proceeded to wash her face and comfort her, much to my surprise.

For the first two years of her life, when she was still healthy and whole, Purrl was a people person. She loved visits from my kids and grandkids. Hell, she even loved a visit from our "Home Vet," even after he poked her for vaccinations.

Often when I came home from work, I would open the door from the garage to the kitchen to find both cats seated patiently, waiting for me to enter and bestow head pets and back scratches, Purrl especially.

Since my neighbor didn't like cats (a profound understatement, if you know the back-story there), I paid a friend a thousand dollars to build up my block wall so that Purrl couldn't get out of the back yard. After work I would take her outside to play. She loved to chase the tiny foam soccer balls I bought for her, and she would carry them back to me so that I could throw them again.

And she loved Thomas. He came along four months after she did. At first, the cats were convinced he was a monster that they had to shred at the first opportunity. I kept them apart, daily apologizing to Thom for the strange hissing creatures on the other side of the door. But Purrl's curiosity got the better of her, and she began approaching him cautiously whenever she could. Finally, she decided she liked his big, warm furriness, and she claimed him as her own, much to his chagrin.
 

By the time we moved out here to Calimesa, Purrl was no longer energetic or agile, and she'd lost most of her vision when she was poisoned. But that didn't stop her from being the world's best mouser. She proudly brought me this beast one evening just as I was going to call her in from the yard.

Three years ago, when Sugar Plum died, Purrl and I were both bereft, and I think it was somewhat of a turning point for Purrl. Her grief was deep, as was mine, but Purrl never seemed to recover from the loss. I adopted Jenny because I thought it would help if she had a kitty buddy again. Despite Jenny's many very sweet and gentle attempts to make friends, though, Purrl never accepted her, and Jenny sustained more than a few bites and scratches for no apparent reason other than being the other pretty cat in the room.

I like to believe that Purrl decided to go find Sug. In fact, I do believe that Sug was waiting for her on the other side, ready to wash her face and mother her as a welcome. Someday, I will see both of them again.

Before I close, I want to say one more thing--and then I can't write any more because I'm crying now, and I can't really see the screen very well. Purrl died peacefully at home with me by her side, loving and comforting her. This was facilitated by Lap of Love Veterinary Hospice, and I am grateful that, on the day Purrl and I needed them, they were there for us. Dr. Kara's kind, gentle, quiet energy was exactly what we needed to get through a sad and awful moment. I highly recommend them.