ol' girl

When I adopted Zuzu, back in '98, I couldn't bring her home with me from Florida because she was too sick to travel by plane. My parents still had Sam and Miss, aged felines themselves already, so I asked my grandparents if they would keep Zuzu until I returned a few months later. With a twinkle in his eye, my grandpa said "well, she's the ugliest looking mongrel I've ever seen, but I guess we can keep her." My grandparents got a big kick out of Zuzu, in all her kitten ways, skittering around the house at Lake Jem. Part of her daily routine included jumping onto the kitchen table and knocking their pills to the floor. No matter, she was still treated to a small bowl of yogurt courtesy of my grandma.

A couple of years later, when Craig came into my life, I warned him: "If Zuzu doesn't like you, you're out. She's a very good judge of character." He passed her test and went on to be her true favorite. He has a way with animals. I wish I could say that for the next two humans to arrive on the scene, but my babies don't have the softest touch, and Zuzu spent a large amount of her time hiding out, waiting for the girls to go to bed, so she could join Craig and me on the couch.

In the last year we've made frequent trips to the vet for my ol' girl. Renal Failure. We did what we could, prescription food, vitamin injections, IV hydration, but I knew we were marking time. In the last several weeks I found myself waking at night, thoughts of Zuzu foremost in my mind. I knew a decision needed to be made. I knew I had to make it. Late Sunday night, I called Craig at work, and I told him what I thought needed to be done. I told him I couldn't be the one to do it, so he did what partners do, he took up my slack. He called the vet on Monday morning and made an appointment. I spent Monday afternoon with Zuzu cuddled alongside my lap, and when the time came, Craig gently took her from me.

We buried her in the back yard, tears streaming down our faces. The girls had drawn pictures, and we'd each written a few words to be buried alongside our girl. Grace hiccuped with tears, and Julia, like many little ones who want to emote like those around them, squinted her eyes, willing tears to come. It took a long time before our faces were dry. I think both Grace and I shed a few more tears before bedtime.

Oh, Zuzu, we miss you. We're still crying for you, but we're also relieved that you're no longer in pain. We buried you close to the birdbath. I think back to all the times you stalked birds through our windows in Augusta and Ravenna. I can still hear you chattering, with a bird in your sight.