Lucille Dumbrava

Tuffy Too steps gingerly onto my lap, her head lifting to my hand. I begin to scratch softly between her ears and around under her neck, and then, as gently as possible, I slide my fingers down her back. The sound of her soft purr, barely audible against the noise of the TV, starts, and she rubs her whiskers against my arm. I can feel the ridges of her spine and when my hand begins to stroke along her sides, every rib is palpable.

Little Tuffy seems to be slowly wasting away. Never a big cat - at her heaviest, she weighed less than nine pounds - she is now down to a little over five. Several months ago I made an appointment for her with the vet, thinking the weight loss was due to her constant vomiting; she'd eat and quickly run to find a place to purge. The vet diagnosed a problem with her stomach and prescribed prednisone which has made the vomiting a rare occurrence now. But the weight continues to drop off her, and there doesn't seem to be a cause.

Tuffy is almost eighteen, and I know I should be steeling myself to the idea of losing her, but I am not there. She was a rescue, as most of my cats have been. Abused and pregnant, she had been scheduled to be put down at the shelter when one of the workers sneaked to a vet and had her spayed making her available for adoption. Once I brought her home, it took months for her to trust enough to allow me to pet her.

Now, she loves to be petted, often seeking me out and even meowing to get my attention. Her meows have changed over the years. When she was younger, her vocalizations resembled the high-pitched trill of a cell phone. Nowadays, when she cries, it is deeper and richer - more assertive. Maybe she, too, is aware of the passing of time, and wants to make the most of it.

Several years ago, this current family of cats was assembled within a few short years, except for the almost-kitten Pansy, who at two is clearly the baby. So it is not surprising that I have lost two kitties in the past two years and am looking at the signs of aging and accompanying ills in my two remaining older cats. But, I never get used to the idea of losing one; I rail against the idea that their lives are so much shorter than our own.

I have read and heard many times that the pets we lose are waiting for us, that we will have our place in heaven surrounded by the animals we have loved. I cannot imagine a lovelier eternity than to be in His presence and bounded by the people and pets who have enriched our lives.

Lucille Dumbrava is a retired Teacher/counselor whose love of cats and love of writing started when she was a child. Many of her stories about the cats in her life have been collected in a book entitled CatHouse, now available from www.bookstandpublishing.com, Amazon, Alibris and local Northern California bookstores. You can also order directly from Lucille. She can be reached at Email