Yesterday afternoon Dave and I said a tearful goodbye to our calico, Izzie. Over the past few weeks she’d been failing rapidly to renal disease and despite our desire to spend more time with her, we made the call many pet owners do that it would be selfish of us to prolong her life and suffering any longer. So the call was made to the vet and after many tears and a short prayer, Izzie was released from her pain. Some might think it a bit odd to write an obituary for a cat, but in my mind, to overlook the passing of such a close companion would be negligent.
Izzie chose Dave and me for her family almost ten years ago when we visited the Norfolk SPCA. We’d just suffered the sudden loss of our dear cat Fiona and wanted to find a cat to fill the void in our home. After about an hour in the cat room “test driving” their wide selection of cats, we were about to leave empty handed when an attendant brought out a small calico kitten who had just come out of quarantine for some unspecified illness. She put the kitten in Dave’s arms and the kitten settled in as if to say, “You may take me home.” So that’s what we did.
From the start it was clear that the personality quirks of a calico cat were strikingly different from those of our mostly white Fiona. Although very friendly and people oriented, calicos are not cuddly. In fact, I’m sure that whoever first made the statement, “dogs have owners, cats have staff,” must have owned a calico. And, while she was a benevolent dictator, there was no question that Izzie was in charge of our household, setting our daily routine of up at 6:30 to feed her and let her out (no slacking permitted on weekends!) to the quirky water ritual we did each night before bed where she insisted we dump her upstairs water bowl into the shower where she could then lick it up off the shower floor. It wasn’t necessary to understand why she wanted things done when she did, just that we complied.
Izzie was always at the door to greet us when we came home. Yes, it was mostly because Dave’s arrival home from work coincided with her dinner time, but other times she greeted us, all she wanted was to be picked up and given some pets. And if she wasn’t there directly, all I had to do was call out, “Where’s my kitty?” and soon we’d hear the tinkling of the bell on her collar and she would appear.
Izzie was a fierce hunter and protector of our property. Within a year or two she had completely eradicated the pesky moles who had tunneled throughout our yard and no other cat dared jump over our fence without risk of being greeted by a raised back, pumped out tail and loud hissing. Once I even saw her parading across the grass with a small snake in her mouth! She wasn’t too keen on dogs either. In fact, I made my first trip to the emergency room as the result of an infected bite I received from her when she went after the neighbor’s pit bull not long after moving in. I learned the hard way not to get between her and another animal.
Most of all, Izzie loved spending time in her yard. So yesterday, that’s where we spent most of our time; Izzie curled up in her favorite spot under the bird bath and me on the back porch, keeping her within my sight. Even though it was cloudy and rain threatened, it held off long enough for her to enjoy one last day monitoring the birds at the feeder and chasing away squirrels.
Today it is much quieter around the house. We overslept a bit without our regular wake up call and going downstairs was strange without Izzie’s demands for breakfast. Over the past several days she hardly ate anything but nonetheless required I stick to my routine of filling her bowl and then letting her out. Today I filled the bowl for our other cat, Purrl, who is attempting to decipher what is going on. Then I opened the back door, just in case Purrl wanted to go out (although she rarely does) and went out to greet the morning alone for the first time in a long time. The loss hit me again as I’m sure it will from time to time in the days going forward. But, except for my trip to the ER, all the memories of our Izzie are good ones and her life, although shorter than we would have hoped, was a full one.
Oh, dear Monica, I wish Izzie could have stayed longer. I really enjoyed meeting and interacting with her during her time with you. She was such a lovely little being. My heart goes out to you and Dave, knowing your sorrow, and sharing in your tears. We don’t forget our little buddies. Love to you and Dave. Hugs.