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Patches |
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I first saw Patches when she was only 3 weeks old. Her mother stopped taking care
of her kittens, so I took over when she was only five weeks old. She was the most
loving, trusting cat that I have ever known.
Patches was my best friend for 19 years. She could always tell when I was feeling
blue. She would curl up under my chin and purr. She comforted me through my
divorce and moves from home to home.
One night, when she was about five years old, I went to bed early, my husband was in
the living room watching television, and as usual, Patches was curled up right next to me.
I began petting her and felt something wet. I reached over and turned on the
nightlamp. All I could see was blood. I screamed for my husband and he came
running. Just then, Patches wriggled around and I saw this tiny little sac.
Patches looked up at me and meowed as if to say "What do I do!".
But, she figured it out for herself. She broke the sac and began to lick the
little kitten inside. It was too late for this first kitten, but as each subsequent
one was born, Patches did her job and she ended up with two beautiful little girls and one
handsome young boy.
On my husband's 35th birthday, we planned a weekend getaway at a local hotel. The
week before, Patches began to weaken. By Thursday, she had stopped drinking water
and I knew that she would not be with me for very much longer.
I was reluctant to leave for the weekend, but we had non-refundable reservations for
the weekend. So, on Friday, after work, we packed up and drove to the hotel.
It was only fifteen miles from home, so I knew I could run back and forth to check
on Patches. After we checked into the hotel, my husband, Bob, sent me out to get
some beverages. He told me bring Patches back with me. Bob knew how I felt
about her. I went back home, found a small satchel, placed her favorite blanket in
it and put Patches, curled up in it.
When I got back to the hotel, Bob had ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon
(it was the only champagne name he knew) and strawberries
with whipped cream. He was trying to cheer me up. (and it was HIS birthday we were
celebrating!) That night, at about 10:30 pm, her breathing became labored.
We both knew it would not be long. She meowed, looked up at me, and began to
purr. I held her in my arms as she took her last breath, petting and trying to
comfort her as best I could. My husband and I both cried like little babies. I
curled her up in her blanket, putting her in the position she always slept in, and covered
her with her blanket. Then, as I looked at my husband, we both began to laugh.
Here we were, in a hotel, celebrating his 35th birthday, and now, what do we do
with this dead cat!. It was storming outside, and I couldn't just leave her out in
the car! So, we just placed her in the corner, and we went to bed. What a way
to spend your birthday! We took her home early the next morning, and buried her in
our backyard.
We returned to the hotel Saturday afternoon, to finish our weekend. Bob told me
how difficult it was for him to get the champagne. He ordered it, and when the
waiter brought it up to the room, Bob was going to just sign for it. But the waiter
said he would have to check with the front desk first. After he checked, Bob signed
the check, never bothering to look at it, and the waiter went on his way. Well, when
we checked out on Sunday, we both figured out why there was such a hassle! That
bottle of champagne cost us $350.00. It was a weekend I will never forget. I
still have the bottle, too. It sits right next to a picture of Patches on my
dresser!
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