Endings and Beginnings

That’s what life is all about, isn’t it? days end and days begin; seasons end and seasons begin. There is a time for all things under heaven.

As you may recall, my Twiggy was diagnosed with Lymphoma last November. She did very well for the first few months, but this spring she began eating less and less and losing weight. A few days before we were to leave for Girls’ Week at the coast, she became very lethargic and when I weighed her I realized she had dropped to only five pounds. Hard times were here – time to make a decision. Time to recognize that she was no longer being the cat she was, she was not doing the things that defined her. Time to call the vet. A time to weep.

Twiggy joined our family in May of 2007, a wee thing sparse of hair and long of leg.

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She was the runt of her litter, but what she lacked in stature she made up for in feistiness and determination.

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When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in July of 2007 and started my chemo treatments in August, she became my napping companion.

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She was the cat that questioned me when I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to, that reminded me that when the dogs got a treat, she needed a treat too.

The cat that stretched out on my legs whenever I sat where she could do so. My evening companion during TV time.

And then – she was no longer that cat. And then – she had reached the point of no real quality of life. We made the trip to the vet. I wept, appreciated the vet’s patient demeanor, appreciated the fact that Twiggy did not struggle, that she seemed ready to just let go now. I appreciated the peacefulness of the moments.

It seems that following an ending, there is always a door that opens for a new beginning. This time, that door came in the form of a couple that attend the same church as The Gracious One and her husband – a couple that had taken in a feral female cat, a cat that entered their house for the first time the day she was ready to birth her kittens – four boys and two girls. She gave birth under his desk, and stayed quietly with her kittens while they needed her. The kittens needed homes, so after we returned from the coast, I picked up my choices. Two rather than one, because I feared a single kitten would be lonely, missing his brothers, sisters and mother. I had selected what we thought were two boys. Misty May, who turned out not to be a he after all:

And Batman (name courtesy of Kat), who turned out to be a he as originally thought.

Now these kittens rule our world. Two was a good choice, I think. There is a time – a time for laughter.

Twiggy would be pleased.