Lilla

Lilla (our first cat) walked out of our lives this week. Over Spring Break, Lilla was acting strange, sickly - she had several accidents in Sarah's room. I had the sense that she was losing control of her bladder and bowels. Her eyes just didn't look quite right when she looked at me, sleepy or something and when she'd open her mouth to meow, it was a whisper, like she just didn't have the energy.

I knew I should call the vet but I just didn't want to do anything before Sarah got home from Germany. I told Sarah about it on Wednesday, the day she got home. Then, Thursday morning, Lilla was "alive" again. She followed us all over the house that morning, even layed in the middle of the kitchen floor during breakfast, just like the old days (she hasn't done that in years).

Thursday was the day that I left school early and came home around 1:30pm (it was the day I received my pink-slip at school). When I came in the house, I was crying and went straight to my room to change clothes - Reggie (kitty) followed me into my room (Nali, my dog, was outside). I broke down and stayed in my room for 15 minutes or so just sobbing (from getting the pink slip). When I went back into the living room, I noticed the door was slightly open. I must not have closed it all the way when I came in. I had a sick, sinking feeling and I searched the house - no Lilla. I went outside and searched all around the house - no Lilla. The snow had that hard crusty top on it that a cat would be able to just walk across. I got in the car and called her while driving around the neighborhood - no Lilla.

I know in my heart what happened. She was 13 years old, her health was failing, and she knew it was her time. She had her final surge of energy Thursday morning and that afternoon, she just walked out of our life. Like in some ancient Native American cultures where elders leave the camp to die alone, Lilla went off. Call it animal instinct. Call it nature. Whatever you call it, it is peace and sadness wrapped up together.

We will miss her.