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Thanks for all the comments about Smalls. I really appreciate it. I have a feeling this is going to hurt for a while. I miss her so much. I also appreciate those of you who have emailed, texted and phoned. It was hard going through this alone. Granted, the girls were here, but they're still just kids and needed to do their own grieving not worry about me. It was great to have that extra support so a big thank you. You know who you are!
Yesterday morning, I needed to do something. My girls thought it was weird, but I'm sure they think most things I do are weird. In spite of my swollen and red eyes, I drove to our vet here in town. A couple of years ago I'd had the cats' records transferred, but Smalls never went there for any appointments. Once when I needed her looked at, I ended up taking her to another vet that had an opening sooner so that other doctor became her regular vet. Anyway, I wanted to see if the records from our old vet had anything about Small's age.
The vet assistant was so nice. She went through all the paperwork (it was mixed in with Chaos' records) and let me take all of her records home. The best part—I found exactly what I was looking for...Smalls' birthday. Something I hadn't known before.
Smalls came with our first house that we purchased in Lake Oswego, Oregon in 1997. The old owners had moved about a half a mile a way. When we first arrived at our new house on move-in day, we found a bowl of cat food. A little kitty kept hanging around in the backyard. We realized she was the same small cat who had been sleeping in one of the bedrooms when we were looking at the house and doing the home inspection. Her name was Smalls.
Each time Smalls showed up, we would drive her back to her new house. But before we knew it, she was back at the house. She always hung around outside since we'd closed off the cat door to keep our new kittens, Spirit and Rocket, inside. She would climb a tree and sit on the peak of the garage roof in the back. I think she used the roof to get into the second floor when the windows were open. Sometimes the old owners would drive down the back alley calling for her. But she would never go to them.
This went on for a long time. Finally I called the old owners and asked if we could keep Smalls. A few minutes later (and I mean literally), they dropped off some vet receipts. I gave those to our vet who must have gotten Smalls' records transferred because right on the front page of Smalls' patient chart that I held in my hands yesterday morning was her birthday: December 1, 1993.
Smalls would have been eighteen in just a few months. That's older than we thought she was. Not that her being seventeen changes anything. But I found it interesting that the time she was born in Oregon was when hubby and I were just starting to date in San Francisco. And even though I'm hurting now, the fourteen years she was with us make it all worthwhile. I just wish I would have had one more night with her sleeping on my pillow against my head and purring like an engine.
Thanks again! xoxox
