All The Things I Won't Have Time To Say

My Sweet Ping and Sophie,

It is inevitable, my cherished kitties...in a little while, you will no longer be living. I know it's a messed up decision, but I would rather put you to sleep and know where you are than to give you away and risk having you run away from your new home and not know your fate. And I am so, so sorry that I have to do this. But we just can't keep all of you. As much as I love you, I just won't be able to trust you once Baby comes. And as much as I have loved you for your whole lives, I love Baby more than I love you and she/he comes first.

When the time comes to load you into the carrier and take you the vet, my heart will already be broken. The afternoon will be such a blur that I won't be able to think or speak clearly. So I want to say these things now. And for any readers who may think, "Jesus, woman...they're just cats!", please understand that these have been my surrogate babies for the past nine years.

*********

Dearest Ping,

You were the first cat I bought when I moved away from home for the first time. Your name came from when I woke up the following morning to you sleeping on my chest. Your big yellow eyes were wide open and I heard the sound effect "Ping!" as I looked at you. Your eyes haven't lost their roundness in the past nine years.

You became a companion to my first cat, Desch, and the two of you were inseparable. Desch was 18 times as big as you, but she must have left quite an impression on you because you are now bigger than she was when she died in 2002.

Ping, you have been there with me during every move I made (13 moves in less than 6 years). You hated the car...you would throw up before we'd even left the driveway. But you always made yourself at home, where ever we lived. You were quick to find the tub in the new place, and you would sit and meow for the faucet to drip. You loved to sleep in the sink or on top of the heat register. You loved the tub, right up until today.

Over the years, you gained a lot of weight. A. lot. of. weight. People often questioned whether you were pregnant. You were a girl after my own heart - you loved food more than life itself. When your food bowl was half empty, you would cry and cry and cry until someone filled it back up.

When Shandi came to live with us, you quit sleeping on our bed. In the last few weeks, you found your way back onto the bed and slept the whole night with us. I've enjoyed having a 19 pound foot warmer :-)

You were definitely our cat. You hated everyone else, especially children. You were quick to swat at anyone who tried to pet you (although you never bit anyone). As soon as there was a knock at the door, you disappeared, only to return when the coast was good and clear.

Your other insatiable need was to get outside. You never wanted to stay for any length of time - just a quick roll on the concrete to get nice and dusty and then you wanted back inside. Sometimes, you were content to lay at the edge of the lawn and watch moths flit about. And you were always happy to munch on a few blades of grass.

I think my favourite thing about you is how much you enjoyed our time together in the bathroom. If I closed the door and locked you out, you pawed and cried until I would let you in. Once inside, you would wait for me to flick my toes. That was the signal that you were allowed to roll and stretch and rub yourself against my feet. It was a nice way to pass the time of what would ordinarily be a boring task :-)























********

Dearest Sophie,

Where do I even begin? You came into our lives five whole days after Desch died. I couldn't bear the thought of Ping being alone, so I picked you out from the SPCA. You were the cat that broke the mold. My whole life, I had only ever had black cats. When I walked into the Cat Room, my eyes immediately fell on you. You were pure white with a very faint grey patch on the top of your head (the patch has long since disappeared). Your name comes from the book "Sophie's World". When I looked at you, I saw intelligence bursting out from behind your eyes, so Sophie was the logical choice.

You were a mischievious one from the very beginning. I think your mother must have been a mountain goat because your constant goal was to always be as high up as possible. On the cupboards, on the fridge, the top of the closet...anywhere that was above our heads. I made the mistake of showing you how to use me as a step ladder. Over the years, I have become an unsuspecting participant in your game of Climb To The Top. And I have the scars on my back to prove the unsuspecting part - cats with only back claws can't hang on very well when a human goes from a crouched to standing position :-)

You were one cuddly kitty...and it didn't matter where I was sitting or laying. You would hunt me down and demand an ear scratch or belly rub. You were very fond of sleeping on my chest (which is reason number one why I couldn't trust you with Baby). It was a little unsettling to wake up in the morning and see your big yellow, intelligent eyes peering into mine. Lesser minds might think you were plotting to kill them. I knew it was because you were hungry.

We often referred to you as The Overlord. When perched in your high up places, you were content to sit and watch us. You would sit and watch the other cats fight with a look on your face that said, "Children...please...that is sooo juvenile". I swear I saw you roll your eyes a few times. You were definitely our little snobby cat.

But, as snobby as you were, you were still friendly to guests. A little too friendly perhaps...every guest that left our house would go home with your signature white fur somewhere on their clothing.



















******

Sweet Ping and Sophie...I sincerely hope that where you are going is a wonderful place. I hope there is grass for you to eat, birds for you to chatter at, faucets for you to drink out of and laser beams to chase. I cannot apologize enough for what I have to do...saying "I'm sorry" a million times a day doesn't even begin to express how much this hurts me. Thank you for being the wonderful companions that you have been...my life was richer because you were both a part of it. And I really will always have a piece of each of you with me...because I'm pretty damn sure we'll be vacuuming your hair out of the bedroom carpet for many years to come.

Sleep well, my pretty kitties.