A Tribute to Cinnamon Cat
Last year I lost my beloved cat, Cinnamon. Writing this will make me cry, even though I have a new cat who I love dearly. Here is a pic of Cinnamon, sunning herself in the garden.
She loved the garden. For most of her life she was an indoor cat, so it was nice for her to spend her last few years in a home where the garden was safely enclosed.
We got her from the RSPCA, where she had had kittens. She had been a stray, found roaming, pregnant and nameless. When we went to choose a cat, she was the one who always came running up to the bars in her cage when I called her, even if she had been outside in the run. She rubbed herself on my fingers between the bars. She came home with me (and my ex).
She always came when I called (except if I tried to demonstrate this to visitors🙂 of course). She liked to sit near me, but was never a lap cat. She never liked to be picked up and would wriggle and struggle. It was years before she would let me rub her tummy, but when she discovered how nice that was, she wanted it twenty times a day.
But only for ten minutes max! Sometimes she would have her ten minute cuddle, get up, stretch, turn around and settle down for another ten minutes, occasionally three times🙂 but I could count on one hand the few times she fell asleep and had a longer cuddle.
She had a delicate digestion. It was a rare month which did not involve at least one small pile of reconstituted cat biscuits, or a hairball. I could recognise that sound at 100 paces! You know, the one with that posture which means imminent regurgitation. I have no photos of that! It was just enough early warning for me to make sure she was not on anything too uncleanable. As long as I was in of course…
I had to have her teeth removed. That upset me, but what can you do? I had switched her diet to the crunchy biscuits as advised by my vet – how was he to know she would just swallow them whole? At least I didn’t have to change her diet after the op. And how did I know? See the previous paragraph!
It also didn’t stop her hunting and eating moths, butterflies, daddy long legs and other bugs, which was very helpful of her. She also killed spiders, those horrid brown ones with long gangly legs that move so fast it’s as if they’ve teleported. I used to be plagued with those. She wouldn’t eat them though.
She hated her feet being touched, which was a shame as I love cat feet🙂 although she sometimes tolerated it in her last couple of years. She would always want to sit on my right side, so if she came and asked for cuddles, I would have to rearrange myself to make a space for her.
I loved her so much and she loved me. She had to have pills for the last few years of her life, for hyperthyroidism. These were small round pills with, for some stupid reason, a pink sugar coating which she, and most other cats, found objectionable. Why they could not use fish flavour coating is beyond me! I tried disguising them in various kinds of food, but eventually realised that the best way was just to grab her and shove it down her throat, which she graciously allowed me to do, out of love.
Them last December, she started getting very thin. She was already thin from the hyperthyroid, but this was worse. She was getting kidney failure. That meant more pills, special food, frequent blood tests and more weight loss unless she felt like a bag of bones. She stayed with me for half a year, slowly dying. She still had enough quality of life to keep her going. Cuddles, the garden. But it was so hard for me. I wrote this poem:
Bright Shadow Fading
You are leaving me
Slowly, gradually, painfully.
Eyes glow huge
Looking into mine
But sometime soon.
Each night I fall asleep
Unsure if you’ll still be here when I wake.
Each morning I wake with joy to find you still with me
Wanting love, sharing love.
How long can I bear this?
As long as it takes.
Eventually the end came, more suddenly that I had been expecting. I had to have her put down, which was seriously the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I still feel like I killed her, even though I know it was for the best. She died in my arms, trusting me. I held her eyes closed and they stayed closed. The vet had said they would be open, but they stayed shut.
Oh, I am in floods as I write this. I knew I would be. My new cat came up to me and meowed for cuddles, knowing I was upset. She is lovely, I will post about her soon.
I buried Cinnamon in the garden, under the catmint. I’ve hardly been in the garden since. I’m going to have to face it soon.
She was a little furry angel, lent to me by God her Creator and now back with Him.
Thank You, God, for Cinnamon.