An ode to Angel

Today, my kitty Angel died. I took her to the vet yesterday because she has lost a bunch of weight after a horrid cold that didn't leave her for months. They did a bunch of tests (I was supposed to find out about it today), and sent her home.

By evening, she was looking rough, drooling and throwing up, hollow eyes, but still purring, in Angel-fashion. I was actually kind of relieved she died in the night so I wouldn't have to take her to be put down in the morning. The poor thing was only 5 years old. It was just like the vet said to Angel yesterday: "You're such a sweet kitty. A pitiful life form, but a sweet kitty."

Angel came to me about four years ago when my grandma finally caught her in the backyard. She had been living there since she was about 6 weeks old without a mama, eating stale bread my grandma threw out for the birds (she was too skittish to come up to the porch for cat food).

It wasn't very hard to tame her, and she warmed right up to Freddy, my other cat at the time, and to me. In fact, she warmed up to everyone.

We had some crazy times. I had to stop buying the cat litter with crystals in it because she kept eating them (gross!), and she ran away three days before my wedding, sauntering under the crawlspace in our apartment. I was so worried she wouldn't come back, or that she would come out when the neighbors would see her (the place didn't allow pets)that I slept by the crawlspace. In the morning, when she still hadn't returned, I was sitting in the living room, calling Animal Control to see if she had somehow gotten out and been picked up, when I felt her rubbing my leg. She was absolutely filthy, but totally unharmed.

She spent her whole life sick, and lots of times her eye was goopy and her nose snotty, but she was still loving, and never seemed to mind much. She liked to sleep under the covers.

I know she's just a cat, but I'm going to miss her a lot. BEfore Anne Marie, she was one of my babies.

Here she is:


And, I can't forget about the other family member we lost this year. We found Duncan in a Dumpster outside my apartment. HE was about 5 million years old, but he hung on like a trooper. He had some senile moments in his old age, but when he was younger, he used to love to quietly walk up and paw people so he could get pets. He also prefered to drink running water, and would accept no substitutes.

Here's Duncan:


This is when we had them all. It was disturbing for some people to walk in the house and see four cats, all together.