In memory of my sweet Wa



Waddles in 2003.



I spent her last night on the floor beside her. She was on a pad in the large hallway in our house, right outside our bedroom where she also had a pad.

She had made it to the other side of the house early in the evening of that last night, all the way into the den to sit by my husband on the couch until I got home from work.

At some point that evening, she could no longer stand.

I put a blanket and pillow down on the floor beside her, not wanting to be far from her because she periodically woke up and cried. I wanted to be close so I could comfort her.

Waddles had chronic kidney insufficiency, arthritis, a heart murmur, low potassium and low iron.

She was 21 years old.

During that last night, I knew it would be her last. I knew that I would have to call the vet in the morning and talk with her about the end.

I knew that I couldn’t keep her when she was suffering.

I knew I was going to have to give her up.

And we did give her up. Larry and I took her to the vet’s office that morning and held her and talked with her as the vet gave her the medications that could not heal her, but lifted her suffering.

When Larry and I returned home, I immediately lost any composure I’d had. I immediately doubted that I had done the right thing.

That was Oct. 13, 2011. I can’t believe a year has gone by since we lost our sweet Wa.

She was a beautiful half-Persian, black and white girl. Her voice was sweet and melodic, only demanding when she was hungry or scared.

She was very dignified. She would sit with perfect posture, her front paws crossed.

She liked to play with toys that we swung near her with a small fishing pole toy. She liked to bat at them and grab them and roll on her side, conquering the toy mouse.

She had some stuffed toys that came with her when I adopted her. She mostly ignored them when we were around, but we’d come into a room where she was sometimes and find the toys moved from one place to another.

She was a thoughtful eater. She’d eat a little, then pause and think about it, then eat a little more, then walk away for a while, then return and eat more.

She was a plucky girl, learning to live with new cats when Larry and I got married. She could hiss and then walk away with great dignity.

Waddles helped me break though my fear of being responsible for another creature. She helped me with my contamination OCD. I could clean up kitty messes without a thought.

I miss her every day. Sometimes the grief has overwhelmed me, and I think my heart will burst from the pain.

   I am forever grateful for my sweet baby Wa. And I will love her forever.