Tragedy almost struck in the Williams household last week. Sweet, sweet Molly, my quiet and constant companion for almost 15 years, became deathly ill on Thursday.
Just as with Ginger in the past, I had my moment(s) of panic when the vet explained the meaning of her test results over the phone. My mind went instantly to the thought of not having her around every day. My Molly -- the furry alarm clock that pulls the sheets down from over my head and tries to entice me out of bed to feed her in the mornings -- not here anymore? Admittedly, the tears flowed.
I can only imagine the pain of such a loss. A loss my friends, Kara and Andre, are feeling right now with the news that their beloved dog, Zoee, is no more. A loss that is inevitable.
It is funny how these little furry creatures enter your life and grab hold of that tender place in your heart reserved for only the dearest souls. You find yourself doing things you never thought imaginable. Like sitting at the vet hospital for more than an hour on a Friday evening trying to get your kitty to eat...anything, please...just to keep up her strength because the vet says she does the best when you are there. Or giving up all your plans on a holiday weekend for Cat Watch 2009 after she comes home from the hospital. Well, of course, I have to. I want to. After all, we are old friends.
Molly is home and on the mend. We have skirted another feline catastrophe for now. And while we are not out of the woods just yet, we are very glad to be back at home recovering. That is, if you measure happiness by the volume of kitty purring.
