Mission Accomplished

I was never a cat person growing up; we always had dogs, even if the first was a Pomeranian-Spitz cross named Pudgy. Along the way, there were German Shepherds, Chinese Shar-Pei, Golden Retrievers, and a Doberman or two.

I had always been blissfully neutral toward cats until one fateful Halloween when I went across the street to our neighbors' house to show off my spiffy new sateen costume, the kind thatyou step into and ties in the back. The short of it is that when I sat on this lady's couch, at the same time, I also sat in a fresh pile of kitten, uh, leavings. There might have been an issue with a claw or two as well, but that afternoon pretty well cemented my opinion of cats!

Fast forward to somewhere about seventeen years ago (my wife knows time things like that) two kittens showed up in our barn. One got placed and the other stayed with us. Her name was Ayla, named, of course, after the character from The Clan of the Cave Bear. My wife had previously arrived with two cats, and I pretty much endured them, but this one was new - a kitten.

Although she said she doesn't remember, my wife told me that according to her reading in the cat Warrior series there are cats whose mission in life is to convince non-believers that cats are really okay. I suspect that was Ayla's job. For years, as soon as I sat down, she was on my lap, and as soon as she was on my lap, she ended up on the floor. That was our relationship. She never came into the bedroom because she couldn't just lie down - no, she'd have to walk and stick her face onto ours, which made it difficult to sleep.

A couple of years ago, more cats started showing up in and around our horse barn. Apparently our barn is an attractive birthing suite for felines. We somehow ended up with two new kittens about a year apart. Ayla must have decided I needed to be her friend, because she never gave up and redoubled her attempts to climb on me. Since she had no patience for the other new cats (but for some reason did have patience with me), I started letting her stay. It wasn't so bad. As a matter of fact, I have reached the point where I have fallen asleep in the recliner with three (count 'em) cats plopped down on me.

Without going into details, today was the day I had to say "Goodbye" to Ayla. A couple of weeks ago, she suddenly began losing weight and becoming lethargic. Perhaps I should have acted earlier, but it all seemed to happen so fast. We spent the morning today with her in my lap watching some TV and then we went for a ride. After a stop at the vet's, I came home alone. Already, there are the empty spaces around my desk and the house where I expect to see her. There's no jingle of the bell she wore.

With people I know recently having lost fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters, I know she was "just a cat," but she was nonetheless an important part of my life. I think I cried more for her than I did for Scarlett the Doberman who served as a major anchor in my life for fourteen years.

Anyhow, goodbye Ayla, and enjoy your rest - you earned it.

And, by the way, Mission Accomplished!