lavendertook (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lavendertook) wrote2015-10-30 06:48 pm
lavendertook) wrote2015-10-30 06:48 pm
Me & my Saki, Strolling down the avenue . . .
Almost 4 weeks now without her. This morning while I was teleworking, Tuxie stared at me, looked over at one of Saki's beds, then back at me. I don't know if it was a question, a stating of fact, or an accusation about her absence. Poor baby. He and Moo have been cuddling with me on and off more today than in the past weeks when I teleworked.
These pics are from a couple of years ago. She looked so different from her earlier self the last few years, and I think her most beautiful. She'd get little dimples in those cheeks paralleling and a little below the flare of her nose when she was giving me her most loving looks--so adorable. She and I got closer after Milli died in 2007, the kitty who was here before her and became a big sister. After the initial disastrous introduction of Saki to Milli, and 5 weeks of very hard work, the 2 of them came to play very well together, though they never cuddled. And her hyperthyroidism and kidney disease and IBD, all the medicine treats and going to the vets I think made our bond even closer. She knew she was being taken care of and she returned that love tenfold.
Me and my Shadow/Saki was one of my main Saki songs, as was You are my Sunshine/Saki. Last year, we added in You're Sixteen. Dancing Queen ("See that cat . . ") was this year's song. And our made-up songs like Supersonic Tail Shimmy, and her favorite, the Princess in Her Carriage Song that I'd sing when I'd take out and put down a plastic crate--she'd get so excited and jump right in.
She loved mauling that brown wool catnip mouse for a couple of years--my friend C made for her and sent and few years ago.
And how she loved getting new beds. The only time I left her on her last weekend was to go out and get a couple of new beds so I could wash her old beds she had spit up in. She did spend a little time in one of them her last evening. Tuxie spent a lot of time sleeping in that one the last 3 weeks. Today he's sleeping in her lavender bed instead--it used to lay next to my pillow, though I put a new one there a month ago to try to lure her back to bed, but she'd only sit in it and groom and be petted for a few minutes before she'd leave.
She loved her catnip. In August, my friend D let me dig up a couple of her fading end-of-season and mostly dried catnip plants, and so I had plenty of fresh dried catnip to shower her in her last couple of months, and she enjoyed sitting on catnip covered rugs.
I love that tail curled over the rim of the bed there. She had a short thick tail. And it would sail high in the air when she'd come to me, until the last few months, when I think it must have been arthritic--nothing wrong showed up in her X-rays, when we checked it at her pre-op. Mom used to call her "crazy-eyed" and that wasn't how I saw her, but when I look back at her older pics, yeah, she looked pretty crazy-eyed in them, I think because they were from before I had a good digital camera and so were taken where there was good daylight which would shrink her pupils. But those weren't the looks she'd direct at me.
She was so soft and fluffy. I loved her apricot patches and highlights. She had an apricot patch that got more vivid in her last years below her right shoulder. And orange areas on the bottom of her front silvery paws. She was a diluted/lilac tortie point meezer.
Now this was her favorite game for most of her life, until her last few months. My job was to put on my heavy slippers and flick a mylar feather stick back and forth. She would chase the stick and then I'd direct it back to my slippered foot which she would then skid over and throw herself around and proceed to maul and gut with her back feet as she chewed on the mylar feathers. "Oooooo Fierce Monster!" She'd occasionally give me inquiring side-eyed looks to make sure "we're OK with this, right?" If I reached down a hand between her attacking paws, she'd never claw it but would pull it over and lick it. Fierrrrce.
The mylar stick is being flicked over the plastic bag for really good crinkles and she's thinking about the best angle to attack from.
She always managed to catch herself in the bag handles. She used to love playing in the bathtub. In her middle years, she'd fling herself about in it like it was the bridge of the Enterprise under a Klingon attack.
We moved from the efficiency to this apartment when she was 8--I'm glad she got more of her life here with more space and birds to see, though the sun was better in the efficiency.
She lost interest in the windows her last year or so--I don't know if it was due to the arthritis making her less able to get in the window. I'd carry her to the window and put her there, and she would not usually be too interested. Her eye sight was failing, and perhaps her hunting instincts were on the wane.
She had the biggest light blue eyes, globes like a pug, a very beautiful pug-dog. Mom liked the wonderful tufts of fur lynx-like on the tips of her ears--I loved them, every bit of her.
My Saki. Her bubble moved further away this week.
I had a nightmare of her earlier this week--kind of a zombie!Saki dream. [[Trigger warning for cat wounds]] She was back, but she was very low affect--she never really looked at me. And she had a dressing on the side that the vet had neglected to remove when he should have. So I laid her on her side--she did not resist at all, which was not right. I removed the bandage, but there kept being more dressings underneath and metal plates, and it was packed--I thank dragon wounds in the Temeraire books for these images--and there kept being more to be removed and it was clear it was not healed and too deep for her to be alive and I woke. Clearly I was telling me to let go.
The next night I had a dream with a bunch of siamese cats, and my latest was a male siamese we were trying to introduce to his father. I suspect I was trying to place her in the gallery of past siamese companions I had grown up with.
Going home from work tends to be among the hardest times. When I'd sing going home to my kitties in the car with her face in the forefront. But I'm getting used to her not being here now.
These pics are from a couple of years ago. She looked so different from her earlier self the last few years, and I think her most beautiful. She'd get little dimples in those cheeks paralleling and a little below the flare of her nose when she was giving me her most loving looks--so adorable. She and I got closer after Milli died in 2007, the kitty who was here before her and became a big sister. After the initial disastrous introduction of Saki to Milli, and 5 weeks of very hard work, the 2 of them came to play very well together, though they never cuddled. And her hyperthyroidism and kidney disease and IBD, all the medicine treats and going to the vets I think made our bond even closer. She knew she was being taken care of and she returned that love tenfold.
Me and my Shadow/Saki was one of my main Saki songs, as was You are my Sunshine/Saki. Last year, we added in You're Sixteen. Dancing Queen ("See that cat . . ") was this year's song. And our made-up songs like Supersonic Tail Shimmy, and her favorite, the Princess in Her Carriage Song that I'd sing when I'd take out and put down a plastic crate--she'd get so excited and jump right in.
She loved mauling that brown wool catnip mouse for a couple of years--my friend C made for her and sent and few years ago.
And how she loved getting new beds. The only time I left her on her last weekend was to go out and get a couple of new beds so I could wash her old beds she had spit up in. She did spend a little time in one of them her last evening. Tuxie spent a lot of time sleeping in that one the last 3 weeks. Today he's sleeping in her lavender bed instead--it used to lay next to my pillow, though I put a new one there a month ago to try to lure her back to bed, but she'd only sit in it and groom and be petted for a few minutes before she'd leave.
She loved her catnip. In August, my friend D let me dig up a couple of her fading end-of-season and mostly dried catnip plants, and so I had plenty of fresh dried catnip to shower her in her last couple of months, and she enjoyed sitting on catnip covered rugs.
I love that tail curled over the rim of the bed there. She had a short thick tail. And it would sail high in the air when she'd come to me, until the last few months, when I think it must have been arthritic--nothing wrong showed up in her X-rays, when we checked it at her pre-op. Mom used to call her "crazy-eyed" and that wasn't how I saw her, but when I look back at her older pics, yeah, she looked pretty crazy-eyed in them, I think because they were from before I had a good digital camera and so were taken where there was good daylight which would shrink her pupils. But those weren't the looks she'd direct at me.
She was so soft and fluffy. I loved her apricot patches and highlights. She had an apricot patch that got more vivid in her last years below her right shoulder. And orange areas on the bottom of her front silvery paws. She was a diluted/lilac tortie point meezer.
Now this was her favorite game for most of her life, until her last few months. My job was to put on my heavy slippers and flick a mylar feather stick back and forth. She would chase the stick and then I'd direct it back to my slippered foot which she would then skid over and throw herself around and proceed to maul and gut with her back feet as she chewed on the mylar feathers. "Oooooo Fierce Monster!" She'd occasionally give me inquiring side-eyed looks to make sure "we're OK with this, right?" If I reached down a hand between her attacking paws, she'd never claw it but would pull it over and lick it. Fierrrrce.
The mylar stick is being flicked over the plastic bag for really good crinkles and she's thinking about the best angle to attack from.
She always managed to catch herself in the bag handles. She used to love playing in the bathtub. In her middle years, she'd fling herself about in it like it was the bridge of the Enterprise under a Klingon attack.
We moved from the efficiency to this apartment when she was 8--I'm glad she got more of her life here with more space and birds to see, though the sun was better in the efficiency.
She lost interest in the windows her last year or so--I don't know if it was due to the arthritis making her less able to get in the window. I'd carry her to the window and put her there, and she would not usually be too interested. Her eye sight was failing, and perhaps her hunting instincts were on the wane.
She had the biggest light blue eyes, globes like a pug, a very beautiful pug-dog. Mom liked the wonderful tufts of fur lynx-like on the tips of her ears--I loved them, every bit of her.
My Saki. Her bubble moved further away this week.
I had a nightmare of her earlier this week--kind of a zombie!Saki dream. [[Trigger warning for cat wounds]] She was back, but she was very low affect--she never really looked at me. And she had a dressing on the side that the vet had neglected to remove when he should have. So I laid her on her side--she did not resist at all, which was not right. I removed the bandage, but there kept being more dressings underneath and metal plates, and it was packed--I thank dragon wounds in the Temeraire books for these images--and there kept being more to be removed and it was clear it was not healed and too deep for her to be alive and I woke. Clearly I was telling me to let go.
The next night I had a dream with a bunch of siamese cats, and my latest was a male siamese we were trying to introduce to his father. I suspect I was trying to place her in the gallery of past siamese companions I had grown up with.
Going home from work tends to be among the hardest times. When I'd sing going home to my kitties in the car with her face in the forefront. But I'm getting used to her not being here now.
no subject
One of my cats died of poisoning back when I was in high school. It was a horrible way to watch a cat die, and I suffered from guilt and grief -- and from cat zombie nightmares for many months after her death. (It didn't help that I'd read Pet Semetary by Stephen King not long before that.) I think the cat zombie dreams are all part of dealing iwth the grief.
no subject
I'm so sorry you went through that. I hope it wasn't Maoi and I hope you weren't the primary care giver or watching her alone. How awful. *hugs tight*
I just didn't get over Storm's death for years, and I really lost all direct memories of her face until last week. I might just be animating her face in pics now and not recalling it directly, but it was more than I've been able to do for 20 years now.