She’s sitting beside me on the trunk, panting. Almost I expect her to move from the pant sound, to the noise she makes when she’s about to throw up a hairball. Such a similar sound to the ear, and yet so different. I used to be annoyed at cleaning up hairballs, now, I wish that was the problem.
I was woken up around 3am this morning, by Luna – lying beside me at the head of the bed. She’s not been sleeping with me for the past few weeks, as it’s a lot of trouble for her to walk up the make shift ramp I’ve deployed by the side of the bed. A small water bowel on the third level in case she decides it’s time for a drink on the way to the top. But last night she made the trek, and woke me with an almost aggressive purr. She didn’t want water, didn’t want food – just wanted me – awake, to give her some strokes. A little time under the covers before she fell into a light sleep, curled up by my side, one paw stretched out to touch my arm.
Luna and I met while shopping – she wasn’t Luna then, rather she was a kitten being sold for $1 by a homeless man, I remember his cardboard sign, ripped from the side of a produce box. I was picking up some supplies for my first trip to Canada. I clearly remember some sirens sounding in the distance, and the homeless man ran off in a panic, abandoning the kittens he’d procured from somewhere in the hot August San Diego sun. Luna jumped out of the box and came trotting after me, on wobbly kitten legs as I entered the store.
I was leaving for Canada that evening, but was enchanted by her moxy, and huge, huge eyes. A girl who was adopting another kitten offered to look after her until I returned from Canada, and Luna has been with me ever since.
She’s named after a character on Sailor Moon – I felt it had nice symmetry. Dove tailing my love of cats, anime and Wonder Woman very nicely.
She’s done a lot in her life. She’s responsible for my friend David’s 5 cats. (He had a mean cat as a child, and didn’t like them. I had told him it’s all in how you raise them – Luna as living proof. She loved people, was good for a chat or a game, and never shied away from showing affection.)
Luna has been with me from my first long term relationship until my last. And god knows what in between. She’s always shown a preference for tall men, flirting with them outrageously with me in the room.
Luna was a drooler, from day one. She’d been taken from her mother when she was too young, so I had to bottle-feed her at first; paws knitting away, as she suckled on the bottle. From then on, whenever she was especially happy, she’d start to drool. Most noticeably on your lap, or shirt, or wherever you were holding her at the time, giving her a good pat. And she was happy a lot.
Right now she’s on the bed, breath coming in shallow gasps. They say cats hide pain, hide it well. And truth be told, she doesn’t seem to be hurting. That’s what makes it so hard. To my eye, she LOOKS fine. But from everything I’ve read, everything I’ve been told, she’s not fine. I know when I’ve been short of breath; every intake labored - how hard it is. When she is on my lap, her heart is beating so fast. So I know, intellectually she’s not fine; I just am having trouble reconciling the mental with the visual.
Her companion passed away 2 year ago now, in May. The years have just whizzed by. Luna has never been another cat cat – meaning she never suffered other cats willingly. But she and Artemis grew up together as kittens. They curled up, yin and yang style – her jet black to his creamy white. She’s off to join him now, and my house, and life will be emptier for it.
But my life has been far, far richer.
I love you Luna,
goodbye.
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