HEAVEN GAINED AN ANGEL TODAY
Miss Molly, baby girl, heaven gained an angel today and left me with a hole in my heart. You were the light of my life, the best part of my life and a calming presence I never thought would leave.
For almost 22 years you brought love, laughter and a will to live life to the fullest to my life.
You were found on a dark Halloween night in 1988 and they didn't think you'd live. You were so little and sick they didn't give you much hope. In your all too short a life you were beside me for every major thing that happened in mine. Both good times and bad you were beside me every step of the way. You helped me interview and bring new roommates into our home. You knew the best foods to eat, the best places to sleep and how to lay just so in the sun.
In 1989 we moved into our house and Vincent needed a little sister. In May of that year you came into my life.
In 1990 we had a spat of roommates and you gave your advice on each and every one.
In 1991 you sat by my side when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait and I said goodbye to Rick, a nice guy I dated, but had merely been making a stop over in my life.
In 1992 you decided Keith was the guy for you even though you were a cat and he a human. You'd lay between us and show him your belly and coo when he'd pet you and tell you you were a pretty girl. You didn't seem to mind that he picked me – after all, we're both human and you had Vincent. When I had my surgery you slept beside me at night and cuddled by day.
In 1993 I went back to school to do my masters in counseling and you sat beside me during those late nights studying. You'd stretch and yawn and offered your own sage advice for therapy – eat well, lay in the sun, nap frequently and get cuddles whenever you can.
In 1994 when I started to write my first book, a non-fiction, you reminded me to take frequent breaks from the keyboard.
In 1995 when I got my first cell phone you also got your phone because whenever I'd talk on mine, you needed to talk too.
In 1996 we had another spat of roommates and you stoically greeted each one.
In 1997 when Keith did the unimaginable you once again sat by my side and offered me comfort.
1998 was a busy year for us, a turning point in many ways – I graduated with my masters and you partook in the festivities, at least dining on shrimp and salmon, we said goodbye to a wacky roommate and I went back to work full time after being a student for four years. In December we said goodbye to Vincent when he crossed the rainbow bridge. I would not have survived that passing if you hadn't sat beside me, sharing my grief. A few days later your sister, Ginny, moved in. At first you didn't want her, but for me you came around.
In January of 1999 MaiTai moved in and you liked him less than Ginny, but you knew you were first in my heart. You were beside me when I got the exciting news I would be working for the CHP. You waited up for me at nights when I worked graveyard shift and let me know I should hurry home when I went to Sacramento for training.
We sat the new millennium in in 2000 although you couldn't see what the drama was about. After all, if we humans only ate well, took naps and laid in the sun, what more could we want?
Oh yes, that's right – cuddle.
You were beside me in January of 2001 when my father died and then three weeks later when my mother joined him. You knew my dad because he came to visit and spoiled you – oh wait, that wasn't spoiling you, it was giving you what you richly deserved. After all, you were the princess.
You were less than pleased with him when his cat, Baby, came to live with us. She wanted to be the princess, but the part was already taken.
During the long hours following September 11, 2001 you were beside me on the couch, watching those horrible scenes over and over. You didn't understand what happened, but you knew Mommy needed extra hugs during those dark days.
In October we celebrated when I went to work for Novato police.
2002 was a mellow year and we certainly deserved it. You greeted me at the door, cuddled at night and sat beside me at breakfast. You had opinions on everything and shared each one with me.
But in 2003 we said goodbye to Baby when she crossed the bridge. When MaiTai followed her a few months later on August 1, you were sad to see him go, but shortly thereafter found a new entertainment – Mel-o-vision. When Mel moved in a few weeks later you were less than pleased. While he may have been interesting to watch in your yard, you certainly didn't want him in your house. But that was okay, Ginny liked him and took him under paw.
In 2004 we had another mellow year – and we certainly deserved it because of the ups and downs of 2003.
In 2005 Novato hit a rough patch and Mommy lost her job. The sad part was that first Ginny and then you developed kidney disease. The era of Mommy-Molly time began when each morning and night you and Ginny received your sub-q fluids. But the good part was Mommy was able to stay home with you for three months and write. Not to be outdone by his big sisters, Mel insisted he must have fluids too – we never told him he had a line with no needle that rested on his shoulders until he decided he'd had his fluids. With you by my side I wrote my first books and they quickly sold.
When Mommy started a new job in 2006 you sat on the bathroom counter and offered grooming tips and we talked about my latest writings. You still greeted me at the door, gave me cuddles and night and sat beside me at breakfast. You had opinions on my books.
In 2007 Ginny started to become sick and you helped me care for her in those last hours of her life. As I sat grieving you curled by my side, your paw on my arm, offering assurance.
In 2008 some tough things happened in Mommy's life and through each of them you stood – or rather curled, laid or sat, beside me. Your kidneys were stable and you patiently put up with getting your fluids. We added metacam to your regime because at 20 you had arthritis. I wondered how you went from that sweet little kitten to a 20 year young lady.
February of 2009 brought Mommy a really good job with super people. You weren't too happy with me being gone for longer days, but every morning you sat with me at breakfast, every night you were there to greet me when I came home, each night before bed you gave me kisses and cuddles and make my life better for your being there.
In the summer of 2009 the kidney disease started to catch up with you and as with everything else in your all too short life, you met each curve with grace. We had to add medications and increased your fluids. You became deaf and couldn't hear me tell you how much I loved you. They tell me you knew, that I didn't need to say the words for you to know how much I loved you. The good part for you was when Dr. Lynne said that whatever you wanted you could have.
You promptly ordered up wild salmon, cheddar cheese and whipped cream. Oh and don't let me forget filet mignon – no hamburger for you. After all, a princess only dines on the best.
As we passed from 2009 to 2010 you slowed down a bit more. I saw more white in your fur, your gait became a little more hobbled. The arthritis began to take it's toll as did the wear and tear of the years and your kidneys. Every step of the way you shined with grace, poise and love in your beautiful green eyes. You still greeted me at the door every night when I came home, preened when I groomed you during Mommy-Molly time, we ate baked chicken almost every night and you would tell me when it was time for lights out and go to bed. You slept by my side, your head in my hand and woke me on chilly nights so I'd move and you could have the warm spot. After all, a princess must have the best and a warm spot fit the best to a T.
When the calendar turned to June, you slowed down a bit more. You walked a little slower, your kidneys weren't up to doing their job, you slept a little deeper. But every night you greeted me at the door, told me when it was time for lights out and cuddled by my side. When a stroke took your vision you were still your amazing and determined self. Your strong will had you walking up and down the stairs even though you could no longer see.
And today when I walked in the door, you were there to greet me. I saw right away what it cost you when you went to draw breath.
For almost 22 years you were by my side every step of the way. In good times and bad, funny and sad, you were a stoic little presence that made life worth living.
How will I sleep tonight without you by my side?
How will I wake tomorrow without you to care for?
Who will sit beside me at breakfast?
Who will greet me when I walk in the door?
Who will give me the unconditional love I had from you?
Heaven gained an angel today. Sleep well little princess.
I will see you soon.
Molly – summer 1988 – June 16, 2010
