The Velveteen Kitty

Any animal born and raised with the conditions Moses met in her first few months, then left with the resulting physical and emotional challenges, has all due right to complain, act out or simply give up. But aside from a certain stubbornness, none of these was in her repertoire. I have never met a gentler, quieter, more peaceful soul than Moses, the shy feral kitten and timid adult who became the safe harbor for other frightened kittens I’ve fostered through the years. In her later years she was the spirit of my garden, her main goal to find the sunniest spot on some nice, warm bricks and have a really good nap as birds, voles and other creatures went about their daily habits to her sleepy disregard. She made it to her nineteenth year, accepting all of her physical limitations but enjoying life no less than some other cats who race around the house, beg for attention and steal food. They all teach me lessons, and hers was one of peace and patience in the face of all that happens; with love, everything works out right.

February 27, 2006

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...and if you've read the story, yes, I think she was loved enough to be real...

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I was lucky enough to be out in the woods a day or two after we realized it was the final challenge for Moses and she would not have long to live. Assisting a living being through the last course of its life is never easy to watch or to act upon, especially with an animal who doesn't communicate as we do. Reading the signs and simply performing palliative care can be more difficult than critical care, but with a big dose of love in both directions it is bearable. I wrote the poem below, except for the last two stanzas, when I knew I'd be facing this realization, and only prayed for the strength and wisdom to do the right thing by Moses. I wrote the last two stanzas while sitting up with her the night before I knew I'd have her put to sleep, when I felt I could sum up what we had done.

 

Things I Found in the Woods
January 13, 2006

Tiny rivulets of water released from thawing soil
flowing beneath last year's debris, trickling and gurgling down hills
hurrying before the freeze returns.

A cup-shaped fungus holding a tablespoon of snowmelt
for a song sparrow to sip, giving early practice to its vernal melody
for the time when spring arrives in earnest.

Ferns, newly-green, draped on hillsides,
fluttering like garlands in the caressing, mild breeze
eager to gather a little nourishment to last the rest of the winter.

Fallen trees blanketed with bright green moss,
thick and lush already in the brief January thaw
filling a span of life in but a few days.

Four young white-tailed deer, capricious as the gusts,
feeling the flush of their first spring as adults
even though this intoxicating weather is fleeting.

An understanding of the normal cycles of birth and rebirth,
but also the confidence to grasp the moment for what it offers
even at the risk of pain and loss when the natural season returns.

A fraction of your dignity in accepting the end of your cycle in this existence,
and the courage to accompany and assist you with strength borne of love
as you transition from this beautiful world into the next.

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After staying up all night at an emergency clinic one night in January, I had to leave her at another veterinarian for the next day to get her fully stabilized after a bout of congestive heart failure. She's tough as a rock and, to everyone's surprise, persisted and recovered. Sitting in the veterinarian's office waiting to pick her up I could not stop the tears, knowing what I would face. Suffering from an excess of emotions myself, something that's only slowed me down but never killed me, I had to do something creative or completely burst into tears while...


AT THE VET'S, WAITING FOR MOSES

I remembered a moment earlier in the day
even through the fear and pain of your impending death:
in that moment when I reached out to you
and you firmly rubbed your face against my hand,
nuzzled your nose between my finger and thumb
and lifted your chin for me to scratch underneath,
eyes squinting at me, whiskers curved forward, nose crumpled;
you, reassuring me.
The look in your eyes wipes the tears from my face
and I can, for the moment,
spontaneously smile and love you completely as of old,
above our grief.

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As an epilogue, I had her cremated as I do all my cats. The woman who cremated Moses' body called, explaining that she didn't want me to think she was crazy and that she didn't see visions in things, but Moses' cremains--the bones left after the flesh has been incinerated--just glowed and were radiant white, and were the most beautiful cremation she's ever seen. She performed it on Friday and hasn't been able to process the bones, or grind them up, because she wanted to look at them, and she wasn't sure about calling me for fear I'd think she was a little loose. I couldn't run down to see, but I was glad she called! I always knew that Moses was beautiful from the inside out, I just didn't know it was literal.

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 A Rosy Glow
This is a notecard I made from a portrait I painted of her years ago.


She found a warm spot to sleep in the sun on that old pink sweater of mine, and the look of contentment on her face was my first inspiration, especially since Miss Moses (we all thought she was a boy) had been a feral kitten and to this day hesitates to walk across the center of any room, finding security in keeping close to the furniture. But there she is in the middle fo the room looking rather smug—I can almost hear her purr.

Visit my notecards page to view the card.

 

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Moses is probably the most photographed cat in the world, as every roll of my film has her on it somewhere and I could spend a whole afternoon photographing her with my digital camera. She was one of my favorite subjects to sketch around the house, too, and several sketches and other pieces of artwork are still in the works. Her demeanor was quiet and gentle, and she could be very still; she was not at all bothered by me crawling around her to photograph or sketch.


She would do anything for a square of sunshine.


She was a great sketch and photography subject because she kept completely still for long periods of time.



All artwork on this page is copyright Bernadette E. Kazmarski and cannot be used or reproduced in any way without my written permission.
This page is owned and maintained by the artist.