Saying Goodbye to Grandma

This is one of our favorite pictures of Grandma.  That's who the little girl was in our Wordless Wednesday post this week!  Grandma was Mommy's mommy, and she was living with us for the last 7 months.  She died of cancer on August 8th, so we're very sad about that.  There have been a lot of changes around here lately, things moving around, people coming in and out, meeting new people who are relatives whom we've never seen before, and different schedules.

Our purrents say we're a houseful of therapy cats, which is a good thing!  Having Tabby in our family has taught us all to be mindful of our purrents' emotions and behaviors, so when they first heard the news, we all offered ourselves to be petted and to purr for them.  Grandpa (Mommy's dad, who was divorced from Grandma ages ago) came over and immediately got three lap-sitters!  We've all been extremely snuggly and attentive to Mommy and Daddy and social with other people who have come by to offer help and condolences.

Heimdall was the closest to Grandma, and became her "furry doctor".  He would sneak into her room to do his rounds, walking under the desk, then around to check out underneath the hospital bed, then walk to the far wall and look up at her when she was lying in bed.  Then, most of the time, he'd go under the rocking chair and have to be caught to be taken out of the room.  If Grandma was in the rocking chair, he'd go over to her for pets.  None of us could be on Grandma's lap, because she had cancer and so her immune system was compromised by the chemo and radiation.  After she died, Heimdall went in to do his rounds and was very concerned when he didn't see her on the bed.  He hopped up onto the bed and immediately shrunk because he could tell she hadn't been there for a week.  She had been in the hospital for a few days before she died, so by the time Heimdall went into her room it had been almost two weeks since she'd last slept in her bed.  Heimdall immediately let Mommy pick him up and snuggle him, then Freya came over to lick him on the head when he was set in the hallway.  He still pulls on Grandma's door at least twice a day, hoping that she'll reappear.

Tabby is the only one of us who knew that humans could die.  She'd encountered death smells and "not there" smells, as well as ministered to dying friends on her visits, so she's been trying to help the rest of us through this.  However, without direct experience, it's hard for us to visualize one of our people being "not there".  It's a different "not there" than when fosters have been adopted.  This "not there" leaves an empty place that's sad, instead of a happy-sad one, and we don't like it.

Mommy let us smell the death smells on Grandma's things when they were retrieved from the hospital, but that only helped a little.  Human death smells, while similar, are still different enough from kitty death smells that we don't know if what we smelled really was a death smell.  Our purrents say it was, but we can't be sure.  All we know is that our third purrson is missing from our lives.

We love you, Grandma!  We miss you very much, and wish you were here to give us leg pets and hand pets, knit blankets for us, and tell us how much you love us, too.  If you were here, Heimdall would purr his best motorboat purr for you!  We know you are at the Bridge, so we will see you again.  We hope your spirit will come visit us like the spirits of our furry family members Skylar and Spooky.

Stephanie Thompson

July 20, 1948 to

August 8, 2014

Therapy Cat Tales from 2/4/11

Tabby writes:


This may be my last Friday visit to H., because of scheduling conflicts with Mommy's work.  Don't worry; we will still visit!  It'll just be on another day, probably on Wednesdays or possibly on Thursdays.  Mommy says for me to be glad I'm a kitty, that I don't need to worry about things like scheduling conflicts or politics or any of that.  I don't care what my schedule is like, as long as I get to eat, drink water, play, sleep, and see my friends!  :)  >^..^<

It was a sad day on Friday.  Rest in peace, Mrs. E.  :'(  I loved visiting with you, and I wanted to come say goodbye to you, but we didn't want to intrude on your last time with your family.  I don't know if you knew, but they were standing all around your bed, talking to you, with the lights down very low.  One was chanting some kind of a prayer.  We stood outside in the hallway, right outside your door, and I lay down in my stroller while Mommy said a prayer for you and for your family.  Much love to you and yours, and I'll look for you when I eventually cross over the Rainbow Bridge!  I'm sure your furry family and loved ones were there to greet you as you passed.

Another friend may not be there when I visit again in two weeks.  May she rest peacefully in God's arms when it is her time.  That's the sad part of my job; saying goodbye to friends, knowing that they may not be there the next time we visit.  We take comfort in knowing that I did my part to make their lives here a bit more joyful.

The first thing I did when I got up to my floor was greet the new nurse.  I love making new friends!  She was so nice, and gave me ear scritches.  Then, she said that two people were waiting especially for me in the TV room!  Wow!  Sure enough, they had their printouts of the day's schedule, with the part with "Tabby the Cat" folded to show on the top!  That's ME!!!!!  :)  >^..^<  G. wanted me to show off my tricks, but I could feel the sad atmosphere from Mrs. E.'s room and didn't really want to do any of them.  However, after about 5 minutes, I did walk on my leash and everyone smiled and laughed.  After that, I asked Mommy for pets, then sat on G.'s walker seat (she was sitting in a chair at the time, so her walker seat was empty) while she petted me and M. petted me.  Then, we made our rounds through the 10 or so people in the TV room, two of which had wheeled down just to see me because they'd heard I was there.  One lady even got to take her medicine a half hour later because she hadn't yet visited with me!

After the TV room friends, we made our way down each of the hallways on the floor, stopping in to see friends and new people.  One lady, who was there for just a few weeks anyway, was just leaving and going to go back home to her very own kitty!  She had her husband stop pushing her chair so that she could pet me.  I purred and purred for them both!  I was happy to hear that she could go back home to her own kitty.

When we were done, Mommy called Daddy and he came to get me.  He and I drove to go get our friend Erin and her little boy JJ, then came back to pick Mommy up after her work.  Erin and JJ got to spend the weekend with us!

Preparing for the inevitable :(

Skylar writes:

Mom and Dad have been watching me really closely since I begged Dad to adopt Starla. From what they've seen, they think I'm preparing the household for my death. They saw this with Lydia when she passed, too.

1. I told Dad to adopt Starla.
2. I've taken myself out of the daily household activities and am spending my days snuggling with Dad or on the bed sleeping.
3. I am not vocal at all, even in situations when I would shout (think Siamese!), but now I don't even make any sound.
4. I am teaching Starla how to snuggle and observing her interactions with Mom and Dad, so basically teaching her to fulfill my role in the household.
5. All the other cats come check up on me throughout the day, and Rori monitors my every move, even walking with me wherever I go.
6. My body processes are slowing down. I'm not taking in much of what I'm eating, and my poops are kitten-sized. I'm rapidly losing weight. I fall over sometimes when I walk. Some days, I can't jump up to the couch and wait until Dad or Mom picks me up to set me on the couch.

Mom and Dad think I have 2-3 months left. All tests come back normal; we think it's "just" old age and the pain of not having my littermate sister around. I've been fading since her death in October.