Paging Dr. Kevorkian...

My best friend died last Friday. Her name was Bailey and she has been my kitty since I was in college. I adopted her from the San Diego Humane Society. She was abandoned in an alley, almost too small to survive. She spent so little time with other cats that she never even learned how to purr. I took her home in spite of her risky start. She fit in the palm of my hand. I had to blender her food and feed her with a dropper. Somewhere, in a box, is a photo of her sitting on my coffee table next to a bottle of beer. The beer was gargantuan next to her tiny little frame.

When I moved to Milwaukee, over 15 years ago, she slept in the foot well of my 2 seater pickup truck for more than 2,100 miles. When we got settled here, she was not very happy. I did not know what to do to make her feel better in her new home, until I got her a sister....Kahlua. Poor Bailey had been the head honcho for the first 5 years of her life and then in comes this little pain-in-the-ass kitten to rain on her parade. They chased each other around my apartment for weeks and then, one day, were friends. And have been ever since. About a year after we adopted Kahlua, Bailey suddenly started purring. After 6 years of life...Kahlua had taught her to purr. 

When I lost my job last year, Bailey and Kahlua spent every available moment curled up right next to me. They were my emotional nurses. They took care of me. I don't know how I would have survived 6+ months of unemployment without them. 

We have moved from apartment to apartment over the years. Always, a bit too small for the 3 of us. But my girls go with me, no matter what. When we moved into our awesome, big new home in May, I did everything I could to make life cushy and wonderful for them. Fancy cat beds, one for each of them right next to my bed; their own bathroom for the cat box and food and the best part...a balcony to sit in the fresh air and talk to the birds. What cat wouldn't be in heaven. But again, Bailey wasn't happy. I tried everything. I will spare you all the details. I would eventually figure out that she was sick. She was 20 years old, after all. 

I ultimately had to make a really tough call. Fight with her for the next few weeks, next few months...most likely not the next few years; just so I could pump her full of medications that would not cure her, only mask the pain. Or, I could let her go to kitty heaven comfortably and quietly. My guilt was overwhelming when I finally made the decision to let her go. But, those last couple of hours were sweet and full of love, we talked a lot and cuddled even more. I think she died happy. 

Mommy loves you, Bailey.

Sleep tight. Have fun chasing all the little critters, napping in the sun
and eating all the wet food you could ever want, up there in kitty heaven. xoxoxox