iced tea


iced tea



April 4, 2009

My best girl Anna died last night. Mi preciosa, mi querida, mi hijta, in the space of a few hours, went for her normal adorable/irascible self to inconsolable to unfixable to gone.

Yes she was old and I know know know that it was the best decision but damn it all happened so fast. And yes I knew it would happen eventually - its not like I thought she would outlive me - but I can't believe she's gone I don't want her to be gone. I know I'll be okay, but it really truly breaks my heart.

It seems like a really short time ago, but actually its been about 5 and a half years since a little stub-tailed cat came into my life.

(above) Anna, in my last apartment

I'd been thinking about getting a cat for a while, with Demmert's strong strong urging. I went to the pound one week with her, but either didn't find any one I wanted or chickened out, I forget which. Then the next week we went again. I'd wanted a cat that had been declawed already, but I looked around, found and met my Anna.

I saw her eyes first - big and green. I then saw she was black with a little patch of white at her throat. Then she turned and I spied her stub of a tail. Two inches that carried the burden of a whole normal cat's tail, that she'd wag like a dog's when she was happy.

(above) Stretching out

She was on the older side for the pound - 7 or 8 (that was fine with me - was looking for an older cat). They said she couldn't live in a house with children or other animals (having neither of those things nor intending to get them in the forseeable, that also was no prob).

So I took her home with me, and we started learning how to live with each other.

For about a week I didn't want her to sleep in the room with me. Or rather, I didn't want her to bother me while I slept. But she would cry and so finally, I relented. It was the first of many battles that I lost.

(above) Sunning herself

I could never say no to my girl.

(above) Doing some serious scratching

And so we've been for the last over-five years.

I was and ever will be ab-so-lutely wrapped around her paw. She had about a million toys (only a few she ever played with), a water fountain (in which she'd either drink delicately from the stream, or dip her paw in and gingerly lick it), and I started even getting canned cat food because she seemed that maybe she liked it more. All this for a cat that was never super affectionate, who'd spend her time sitting a little bit away, who'd sit near-ish you bolt if you got any closer. There are some animals who always look happy but Anna was not one of them. At best she'd look indifferent, but usually she'd give you something more like annoyed, or disapproving.

(above) Anna, giving you and me and everyone one of her famous glares...

She had a meow that sounded more like the bleat of a goat. And she meowed all all all all of the time. Especially at night - for the last five years there hasn't been one night where she hasn't woken me. I'm not kidding. We're talking several times a night. Ask anyone who's slept over - it was insanity. People ask me why I put up with it and the answer is simple. I love her and it makes her happy. I'm no martyr, but if this is how she wants to connect, there I am.

And there were a million ways she was a sweetheart and three-quarters. Not only did she look like a hat (see below), but she liked to act like one - I'd wake up in the middle of the night with her being wrapped up like a little fur turban at the top of my head. She loved to snuggle as I slept, meowing demanding to be pet then curling up in the crook of my arm and going to sleep.

(above) Is it a cat? Or Carol's Russian Hat?

Despite wanting her space, she loved attention. She'd make noises like a motorcycle, or gently touch my face with her paw. Repeatedly. She liked to sit nearby - if there were a couple of us on the couch she wanted to be right in the middle. Or sitting in her little brooding position along the back of the couch. Every day when I came home she'd be there at the door, behind the door meowing. I could hear her halfway down the hall sometimes, calling for me to come home. An ex would tell me that whenever I left the apartment (to go change out laundry or something) she'd get anxious and wait by the door until I returned.

(above) Hanging out, stub tail in full effect

And then anytime I went within 20 feet of the kitchen (and since I live in efficiency there are few times I'm not within 20 feet of the kitchen) she'd be there, underfoot, hoping for some food or treats. Despite the pleading, she was the skinniest most petite thing. She would never eat her entire bowl of food. Except for that one time Borgosz looked after her while I was away and we came into the apartment with her bowl empty and tipped over and her acting like she hadn't been fed in weeks.

My drama queen, my baby, my sweetheart. She's been my companion through a bunch of jobs, a ton of boyfriends, crises large and small. She's been the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning and the last thing I've seen when I went to sleep at night for almost six years. I can't believe she's gone but I'm grateful for all of the time I had with her. I know she loved me, and I'll always love her.

(above) My babygirl, in repose

a m. just a m


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all text, images (except those noted) copyright 2002-2010 Moryma Aydelott.