Remembering Smokey

Seventeen years ago, my kids and I brought home a pair of kittens. One was a grey on grey tiger pattern with peachy undertones; we named her Smokey. She spent virtually her whole life in that same home; she did strike out on her own in the urban jungle for a full week once but never showed an interest in going back.

Several years ago, she was diagnosed as diabetic so we started a twice daily pill regimen; that established a new daily rhythm for the house. Every morning and every evening, at about 7:30, I'd snap my fingers to signal it was time for her pills. More often than not, she'd hop up onto "her" chair and wait for her pills. Then she'd wait for me to snap my fingers again to signal it was time to go downstairs for food. It was our way of dealing with her condition and it appears to have extended her active life a great deal.

She kept her inner kitten well into her later years. One of our morning games was to play chase with an old tie. As I would be getting dressed for work, she'd hop up on the bed and wait for me to flip this old tie out on the bed. She'd pounce on the tip and then let it go for me to do it again; we'd often play for a few minutes. Maybe she had trained me.

She always like to be around me. As a young cat, she liked to be able to lay on me or have a paw on me. Later, she'd lie down facing the same direction I and feel around for me with the tip of her tail. When I'd work at the computer, she'd sit on the back of a chair a few feet behind me or sit on the floor in my peripheral vision. Often, I'd hear a faint rumbling purr and know she was nearby, apparently happy.

The last week or so were a pretty steady decline. She may have had a stroke as her left legs didn't seem to respond as well as usual when she walked. That made hopping up on the couch or her chair more challenging; going up and down the stairs to food and litter became a major effort. I helped her into her chair and down the stairs; she'd have to make the climb back up... and she did a few days. When she wouldn't make the climb, I set up a little bed in the basement using one of her favorite blankets.

On her last day, I noticed it was a little cool in the basement. The sun was shining so I took her out to the back yard to get some sun; I wasn't worried about her dashing around. The birds in the neighborhood sure made a racket about this poor old cat coming out to get a little sun. She laid on her blanket in the sun as I worked on some weeds in a flowerbed; she appeared to like the feeling on her old, worn coat. When we came in, I took her back downstairs to be near food and water though I doubted she'd be interested.

Later that evening, I went down to see how she was doing. She was lying on her side, breathing about three shallow breaths and then one deeper gulp. I petted her and called Linda to let her know how Smokey was doing. As we talked, I continued to stroke Smokey's fur. Her legs looked uncomfortable so I tried to move them up closer to her body; there was resistance so I stopped. Slowly, her head started to arch back and her front legs stretched even further; then the front legs relaxed and the back legs stretched, then relaxed. After that, there was nothing more. No more breathing, no more resistance in her legs. She was gone. I was glad to have known her and to have been there, petting her, at the end. She was a sweet spirit.