My companion of fourteen years is suddenly, unexpectedly gone, and my home and heart are empty.
I hope no one finds this maudlin; it is an effort of catharsis.
We had a previous siamese named Pearl. When that Pearl I died during my wife’s prolonged illness our daughter, Sigrid, set out to find a replacement. She did and it became Pearl II because we knew that in moments of frustration we’d be blurting out, “Pearl!” We acquired her from her mother in December, 2000, and she became a comfort to my wife, Marty Lou, until her death in August, 2002. Thereafter and for the next fourteen years Pearl became my 24/7 companion. This week she became severely ill and it became necessary that I put her at peace which Sigrid helped me do.
Sigrid immediately worked to rid the house of all signs … food, litter, warming pads, scratching post. She couldn’t remove what’s in my head, and I am sad. I walk by the bedroom and reflexively look to see if she’s stretched out on her side of the bed. That was a concession early on, to provide an electric blanket with dual controls so that she wouldn’t be snuggled against me for warmth all night.
This picture shows that we had a working relationship early on. The old monitor and the early version of Photoshop reflect her age as well. In later years she deeply regretted the development of flat panel monitors which deprived her of another warm place.
We had daily moments together. Upon rising I would feed her and then retreat to the sun room with my coffee and morning music. As soon as she finished she would join me on my lap and we would contemplate the day ahead. Other daily moments included lap time after my breakfast, snuggling against me during my afternoon nap, and lap time during an evening’s TV time. She would also frequently jump onto the desk during the day to ask what I was up to and to seek a few minutes of lap time.
Similar rituals took place at the shore house. This picture also shows a frequent sign of affection from her, tucking her head under my chin. I will miss this.
On other mornings we would just sit and talk about life and things.
I’ve always loved this shot of her which has previously appeared on her own web page. It’s entitled, “Yes, girls, I’ve trained him to put the seat down.”
She wasn’t always sweet and gentle (nor am I). She was a cat with a cat’s moods, but I prefer to remember her running to the door when I had been away for a few hours (“Where’s my dinner, Dad?”) and I prefer to remember her head butting while taking the morning sun together. And other things that I will be reminded of as days go by.
I shall miss her sweet face and her (mostly) sweet manner. I am greatly saddened.
Several years ago she asked me to create a web page for her. With her help, I did, and you can see it by clicking here.