Thanks

Meari,
Thank you for your kind words on Dovey.
I still expect her to come into the bathroom in the morning and meow her 'Good Morning, Mommy'.
It is lonesome without her and her siblings and I are still in blue.
Thanks again,
Cait

The measure of love....

It is a measure of love to know how we are missed.
All last night they were walking around the house and calling to her.
Their agitation and confusion was palpable.
It didn't stop with last night. This morning they were doing the same.
Dovey's sisters don't understand where she is.
I brought her back in the house after I took her home from the vet's clinic.
I laid her down on the floor for them. Both sniffed and walked away.
But they wouldn't or couldn't accept that Dovey was gone.
Their missing her equates to the love they had for this little, grey being.
That my talking to them and petting them had some effect, don't tell me that her siblings aren't mourning the loss of their sister.
I can see her grave markers out under the Haraldson apple tree from my eastern facing windows, and I also grieve.
Talking softly to Cinders and Cuddles helps them, just slightly, but they still call for her.
To those that insist that animals are just that, without thought and feeling, and haven't seen this phenomenon of their grieving for Dovey, well, I don't think I ever want to meet these people. I would just appreciate that they never come into my life for me to feel sorry for their lack of knowledge and compassion.
Little Dovey, Thank You for gracing my life for the last decade plus. For teaching me to appreciate all of God's gifts to us.
Your life was a great joy to me.
I grieve for you also.

Dovey

Today was a hard day for me.
For the last week I have been trying to get one of my little cats to eat. She wouldn't and couldn't.
Today the hard decision was made to let Dovey go.
She wouldn't eat anything and all she wanted to do was drink.
She was so weak, I didn't have much choice.
Dovey was the best mouser, the best I ever had. Dovey would hear a mouse in this 96 year old house and she sat there in the kitchen until she got it.
She was a small dove-grey cat, only 11-12 years old.
Dovey was a feisty one, and if you invaded her space, most likely you were told by her to back away. It was only in the last few years that she tolerated you to pet her. Never on her head, but from the shoulders on back you could touch and stroke her body down to the end of her tail.
And she was a talker! If you were in the kitchen having a meal, or anywhere she saw you, she would just let loose with one of her outlandishly loud meows. You could literally hold a conversation with her. Dovey would 'say something', you would answer and she would respond.
Dovey wasn't one of the most cuddly cats, and I regret not being able to sit with her in my lap to pet and cuddle with her.
This last week was hard for both of us, and her sister, Cinders, never left her side. When Dovey went to drink, Cinders was with her.
She asked for so little, but gave so much even though she did it on her terms.
I will miss you little girl, wait for me when it is my time to cross our rainbow bridge...............