"I've heard it said
That kitties come into our lives
For a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you..."
On Wednesday morning, my Georgie -- George Thelonious Kitten -- passed away in my arms as Rob and I were driving him to the vet to put him to sleep. He hadn't been sick all that long this time, but then again, he had been terminally ill for the last nine years. He was diagnosed with Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy when he was five or six, and the outlook wasn't great from the start but Georgie had his own way of doing things and he danced through life, leaving laughter and mayhem in his wake for so long it was hard to remind myself at times that he was always on borrowed time.
His cardiologist dubbed him "Miracle Boy" and couldn't believe how well he seemed on the outside when his heart was such a mess. He bounced back from more than one life-threatening non-cardiac issue and it seemed as if he might just live forever at times. I have to credit his long life to his being the easiest cat to medicate who ever walked the earth. Every day for almost a decade he would come to the kitchen and sit on his box and take his meds, there were a lot of them, and he took them all like a trooper. For most of that time he would eat them out of our hands, and even when he grew weary of that he always let me give him the meds that kept him going. For nine-plus years we planned our lives around Georgie's medicine times.
He was a joy and a terrorist. When he arrived at the age of eight weeks old we had a house full of sedate, senior kitties who all knew the rules of good behavior. Georgie bounced onto the scene saying, "rules? I don't need no stinkin' rules!" and he became the God of Chaos, which was at times hilarious, and other times exasperating, like the time he decided to go on an adventure and explore the neighborhood. My neighbor Marlene and I met *ALL* of our neighbors that afternoon, looking for him. He came slinking home that evening, smelling like the sewer and looking like he'd met his match out there. He was a bit of a velcro-boy that night.
Like any cat he had his places he liked to be, the top of the cat tree for one, and looking out the front window into the bushes, where birds built their nests and chipmunks and squirrels sometimes came to visit. And he had his quirks, like being *obsessed* with our upstairs bathroom. Possibly that was because it was the "time-out" room when he was young and got his entertainment teasing the older kitties. But he always, always had to follow me into the bathroom in the morning and walk on the scale to make it beep. It was very important to him, so much so that if he happened to miss me, he would sit at the door and cry until I went back upstairs and let him have his bathroom time. He was ridiculous. He was lovely.
"...It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So, let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a pawprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have rewritten mine
By being my friend ..."
Rest in peace, my beautiful boy. Mama loves you.
"...Who can say if I've been changed for the better
But because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good"
(with apologies to Stephen Schwartz)