My Kitty

Feeling: sad, worried, yet hopeful

For those who don't know, I've had four cats, two dogs (one was Gramma's), and ten fish at my house in my lifetime. Smokey, Tiger, Chyna, Butterscotch, Duchess, Dallas, Pyrite, ten unnamed fish, and Goldie. Butterscotch was given away when I was 5 (a few weeks after we got her). Smokey was a stray that we got when I was about 6 months old. Tiger was under our front porch with a broken hip. Duchess was a house-warming gift. She was put to sleep after being an idiot and tearing her throat twice with rose thorns at the age of 1 (human years). Dallas was my gramma's. Pyrite was my black-eyed fish. Goldie was my goldfish. Chyna was a kitten we found on our doorstep. There is a reason I saved him for last (though this entry is about Smokey). My mom got pregnant. My dad wasn't living with us for the first time. (He claims there was only one time that he moved out. Bullshit, I say.) Dad moved back in. Mom lost the baby. It had been twins, a boy and a girl. I think that baby might have given my parents a reason to stick together. The afternoon she found out, we came home to find this little cat on our backstep. Our yard was fenced in and too high for a normal ten week old kitten to jump over. My dad didn't want the two cats we already had (Smokey and Tiger) and said, "Don't even think about it. We are not getting another cat. My mom just looked at him and said, "I just lost my baby. This kitten needs to be nutured and I need someone to nuture. There is a reason this cat is in our yard. We are keeping the cat." And we did.

But my baby, my Smokey, isn't well. Her kidneys are failing. She's responding to the herbs *rolls eyes at the thought of herbs being the only thing used to help her baby* but there's not much more they can do for her. She doesn't eat much. She's nearly 15. I've never lost anyone close to me. I've told her all my secrets. Had she been living with me when the recent drama started, I'd have cried my eyes out and instead of thinking of cutting, I'd just want my baby to lay with me. I'd want her to curl up with me, above my head like she used to when I was little, and lay there with her, covered by fuzz. My g-grandpa passed away when I was 2, my g-grandma over a year ago, and my g-g-aunt less than a year ago. At two, I can't remember him and I hardly knew the others. But Smokey is my best friend, my comfort, my baby. She lives with my grandmother. Gramma was telling me about her condition this morning. She used the phrase "not much more they can do for her" and then procedes to say, "You're going to have to start preparing to make some decisions." I grabbed my backpack and went into the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, I tried to cry as silently as possible. Decided to choke back my tears (I had to get to school) but failed for a few minutes. When they subsided, I looked in the mirror and saw that I was red all over. I didn't want to have to go and answer questions about "are you okay" and "what happened". So I pulled out the make-up I had in my bag (I was planning to do it in the school bathroom) and put on enough make-up so that I looked like I hadn't been crying. But now, the tears are wetting the paper on which I write.

Love always,
Vickey