Basette was my Little Black Wonder Cat. She recently crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 11, 2004. It has been so hard to try and write anything here since that time. This blog journaled her story, the intense roller coaster ride from February through June, and beyond.
Funny how treating and nursing a pet through an illness brings you closer together. She was so intensely good about everything. Basette has always been my favorite kitty (doesn’t mean I don’t love the remaining three cats). She jumped into my life and purred ever since. Except that last day.
I miss her. I’ve spent so many nights in tears since she passed on. Some guilt over having to make the decision to put her to sleep. First time I’ve ever cried this hard over a pet. Of course, she was the first cat I’d had for 14 years, and was by far the most unique. She used to wake me up from nightmares, ride in my lap in the car, and gain attention by scraping her claws down the wall.
The following poem was written as a eulogy for the Little Black Wonder Cat.
“One Last Purr”
On a frost-filled February morning,
Gas-station royalty found a suitable subject and
Answered an open car-door invitation.
Purring louder then the engine
Fine, foxy face with glittering gold eyes:
Jumping onto my lap, into my life
That first vet trip she purred:
Vibrant, loud, pleased;
Chewing on my finger, licking my hands
Content to sit on my lap and be worshiped
She was Little Bastet
Whose regal bearing bespoke Ancient Egypt
Where gold adorned, bejeweled cats ruled
And rumbled their pleasure like lions
Today, her purr was hesitant
An out-of-tune engine’s rumble:
Idling, surging, whispering, roaring
She squirmed, squeaked her displeasure
Unsure of who I was;
awareness escaping like mice never had
Petite black furred form swaying
Back claws gripping en pointe
to land softly, sideways on the floor
Those once-agile paws, quick darting eyes
Now thumped into exam room walls.
Lucidity lit by a guttered out flame,
Delving deeper into dementia
A shadow of the once-sharp mouser
Whose near-invisible form
Stalked hemlines on the staircase
Diabetes had stolen her vitality, her lucidity
Renal failure took all that was left
Setting her on a soft wool bed
Little black bedwarmer who cowered Keeshonds
Did not know who cried over her.
Brilliant gold eyes dimmed to bronze,
Purred one last time
(Kim Nylander, June 252004)