After a fairly good day yesterday, Chica took a turn for the worse last night. She was unable to eat anymore and was beginning to have trouble breathing. She sat with us in the living room all night and I really didn't think she would be here this morning but she was, alert and wanting to be near us.
When she began to have more trouble breathing we felt it was time to let her go. At the ER vet, they said she was so very close to the end. We were holding her and talking to her as she went under.
She is buried next to Joey near the cat house,wrapped in a baby blue blanket with a bouquet of daffodils and a piece of rose quartz to symbolize that she was my heart cat.
What can I say about my first cat? I am in awe that she lived to be almost 22. She had an amazing personality and intelligence
|At 5-6 months|
Many vets feared her feisty character. They had deep scratches to show for their time with her.
In her younger years we called her Queen of Mean because of her intense dislike for other cats. She would have preferred to be an only cat. She walked through the house grumbling and muttering if other cats got in her way. Because of this she held on to her top cat position - they all deferred to her.
With us Chica was always sweet and loving. Her purr was loud and strong and could keep Pop awake at night. She loved people and would come out to greet any visitor with curiosity and affection.
She loved boxes to sit in and to pummel. Even on the day before she passed she got up looking for her box and spent a few moments sitting in it.
|Picking on Yoko...yet again!|
She loved being naughty and would do something we didn't want her to do in order to get attention. Her favorite was to pick on Yoko or to pummel the window blinds, getting them all tangled.
She liked to play with us only. She could jump and catch a kitty ball with her two front paws. I would slide pennies on the floor and she would catch them with her paw. She even played hide and seek with me. I would hide and call to her and she would roam the house looking behind and under things until she found me and then it was her turn to hide. Her favorite place was on the floor of the bathtub. I would sneak up on her and just see the tips of her ears over the edge of the tub. If other cats would come over to join in, Chica would walk away in disdain.
There will never be another cat like her and I will remember her forever. Wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge, sweet girl and give our love to Joey and all those who have gone before. Sweet dreams.
|Thank you to Ann of Zoolatry for this lovely graphic|