This afternoon, Rascal took his final ride.
Before, whenever the cat carrier came out Rascal disappeared but lately he slept most of the time. I think his hearing was almost gone. I opened the carrier door, swooped up the sleeping cat and slipped him in before he knew what was happening. I plopped him in the back of the car and we were off.
He yowled for about ten minutes but after a while it seemed too much effort and he gave up. In half an hour we were at the veterinary clinic. Almost immediately we were shown to the examination room. The aide gave Rascal a relaxation shot and he slipped to his side. I had ten minutes with the old guy and I talked to him about how he liked to catch baby bunnies and bring them inside. I told him the bunnies were eating my crocuses and would likely take over the garden this summer. I talked to him about how Gary was in Illinois crying about him, how his friends would miss him. I stroked his fur and scratched his ears.
Then the vet came in and gave Rascal the final shot. A gasp and it was over.
I went home alone.
As I drove I began to think about the past thirty years. Soon after son Chris and I moved into this house, he began asking about a cat. We wound up with a cat the waitress at Ashman's restaurant wanted to find a home for. Ms. Baby Doll was a year old and would live in this house for eighteen years. For the last eight she had to put up with Jake Dog, an Australian shepherd ten times her size. She put him in his place when he was a pup and he always had nothing but respect for her. When she died, he went into mourning. He didn't know what to do without his cat. So we got another cat, and that was Rascal. Rascal arrived on September 11, 2001. Jake died and Rascal lived on until today.
There were two other cats in the story, Velcro and Beamer who lived here briefly but mostly the story was about Ms. Baby Doll, Jake Dog, and Rascal. I've decided to put the Christmas collection of stories off for another year and work on a non-fiction story about the thirty years with those three.
The best way to write this book is to use this blog. Once a week, I will write about my animals. In time, I should collect enough stories and have my book. And my memories.
Meanwhile, it sure is quiet here.
Before, whenever the cat carrier came out Rascal disappeared but lately he slept most of the time. I think his hearing was almost gone. I opened the carrier door, swooped up the sleeping cat and slipped him in before he knew what was happening. I plopped him in the back of the car and we were off.
He yowled for about ten minutes but after a while it seemed too much effort and he gave up. In half an hour we were at the veterinary clinic. Almost immediately we were shown to the examination room. The aide gave Rascal a relaxation shot and he slipped to his side. I had ten minutes with the old guy and I talked to him about how he liked to catch baby bunnies and bring them inside. I told him the bunnies were eating my crocuses and would likely take over the garden this summer. I talked to him about how Gary was in Illinois crying about him, how his friends would miss him. I stroked his fur and scratched his ears.
Then the vet came in and gave Rascal the final shot. A gasp and it was over.
I went home alone.
As I drove I began to think about the past thirty years. Soon after son Chris and I moved into this house, he began asking about a cat. We wound up with a cat the waitress at Ashman's restaurant wanted to find a home for. Ms. Baby Doll was a year old and would live in this house for eighteen years. For the last eight she had to put up with Jake Dog, an Australian shepherd ten times her size. She put him in his place when he was a pup and he always had nothing but respect for her. When she died, he went into mourning. He didn't know what to do without his cat. So we got another cat, and that was Rascal. Rascal arrived on September 11, 2001. Jake died and Rascal lived on until today.
There were two other cats in the story, Velcro and Beamer who lived here briefly but mostly the story was about Ms. Baby Doll, Jake Dog, and Rascal. I've decided to put the Christmas collection of stories off for another year and work on a non-fiction story about the thirty years with those three.
The best way to write this book is to use this blog. Once a week, I will write about my animals. In time, I should collect enough stories and have my book. And my memories.
Meanwhile, it sure is quiet here.
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