Wednesday, March 28, 2007
I am sad to report that we had to have Natasha put to sleep last night. She had been ill while we were in France, but seemed to be responding to treatment until yesterday afternoon, when she failed suddenly. We are saddened by her passing, but although she had diabetes and thyroid problems, for the fourteen years that she was with me (and seven since Diane and I have been together), she did not suffer until the last couple of weeks of her life, and for that we are grateful.
The Princess, as we called her, came to me after having been abused--when I brought her home, she still had one leg in a cast. She mostly recovered, although her right hind leg remained gimpy and she was never a lap cat, and would generally make herself scarce when strangers came in the house. She would sit near me, but always where she could get away. If I was seated at the computer in a chair with arms, she would sometimes seek attention, seeing that I was pinned in the chair and could not do more than reach out and fluff her. Still, for many years she would like on the floor, roll over on her back and expose her belly, and she would let me tickle her there and seemed to like it.
Natasha was the number one feline--hissing at her brother, Shay-Shay, whenever he came near except, strangely, around the food bowls. Still, he misses her; he's wandering around the house looking a little lost.
In an earlier post, I suggested that I might not deserve to go to heaven, but Natasha and Shay-Shay do. So, if there is such a place, I guess she's there or on her way, but I like to think that she also lives whenever we think of her.
Adieu, Natasha. You'll always be our princess.