Everything I learned in life I learned from my Cat

 A tribute to my Zoey.

A cat that deserved the world.

Zoey was not just a pet to me. How can I refer to the one who listened to my trials and tribulations, snuggled with me when I weeped, was happy when I experienced joy, and was my constant companion for the past two and a half years as merely a pet? She had been with me longer, but it was her and I against the world when I moved into my apartment. I had to make the agonizing decision to put her to sleep this week.


Zoey was originally my daughter's cat. We embraced her into our world when I divorced for the first time. A squalling little ball of fluff, our boxer/mastiff mix Wrigley was looking more at making her a meal than adjusting to her. I have to say she had no fear of this 100 pound plus dog. As he growled, and bared his teeth, I raised my voice. "Wrigley! No! That's the baby. That's YOUR baby." This gentle giant looked at me, then looked at the tiny ball of fluff in front of him. Zoey then reeled him in, rubbing her body against his legs and purring. A lifelong relationship was made that day. From that moment forward, whenever Zoey cried, Wrigley would come running from wherever he was to make sure no one was hurting his baby. I learned a little charm goes a long way.

We also had a second cat named Blue. Blue was a foundling, and independent as hell. Zoey soon grew larger than her sister, and took every opportunity to tackle her. Blue tolerated Zoey, but when she had enough, would make sure her sister was well aware of who was in charge. Funny to see the cat who was double the size of the other turn and run, often making a horrible sound as she fled. I learned teasing is fun, until it isn't. You need to know when it goes too far.

My stories of Zoey and the vet are legendary. This hellcat hated the vet with a passion, and I often wore the scars of a wrangler following those visits. For a big girl, she was surprisingly agile, and her four paws hit the opening of her kennel every time. I was bit, hissed at, scratched, head butted, peed on, and generally abused when I took her to the vet. Wrestling an alligator might have been easier. I learned to fight from these encounters - don't let the world take you down without a fight.

While at the vet, every single time she was an angel. The vet looked at her beautiful teeth, and told me most cats have tartar on their teeth, but not Zoey, Hers were white and shiny - the most beautiful teeth the vet had ever seen, right up until the day I had to put her to sleep. My comment always was that her best hobby was eating, and she was really, really good at it. I learned to embrace what I am good at, regardless of what it is. Life doesn't follow a set pattern.

My little angel was afraid of other people at first. I'm not sure why, but she was usually hesitant with folks she did not know. I always knew when someone was exceptional. Those were the people that Zoey showed little hesitation to. She had her select caregivers, and a few people she liked. When she trusted you, she trusted you with her whole being. She purred, and played, and slept with them. From this, I learned how to trust again. I learned that no two people are the same, and to give people your heart. If they show you the same in return, it's a gift.

Zoey had a fetish for feet. The stinkier they are, the more she loved them. As a kitten, Zoey was exposed to Jess working in fast food. She would often come home, smelling of burgers and fries. That silly kitten would stuff her head in Jess's shoes, and just lie there. This developed into her love of all stinky feet. It was always as if my shoes were her property, I was merely borrowing them. If I needed to find Zoey, I had to look no further than my shoes. I learned that we love what we love. It may not make sense, but everyone has their own reasons for what they want. It's never wrong. Never let anyone tell you differently.

When I would go on vacation, Zoey would always make me work for it when I came home. I knew she missed me. She would sit on the table and glare when I came in, but within a few hours she would be my girl again. She'd curl up in my lap, and talk to me. We'd play, and she always loved me to get her belly. I'd always think about Fat Bastard in Austin Powers as I said, "I'm...gonna..get...that...belly! Head! Feet!" She'd nip at me, but her tail would be going a mile a minute. I knew she was having fun. She also adored her toys. I learned how to have fun, and how to not hold a grudge. Life is short.

I am missing the mornings with Zoey. Usually about 2 minutes before the alarm went off, she'd get up next to my head and purr. The alarm would go off, I'd hit the snooze button, and she'd begin to head butt me until I got up. She wanted her morning treat (actually bladder medicine, but a treat to her). We'd hang out together in the bathroom. I would shower, and she'd be in there soaking in the warmth of the room. We'd breakfast together, and as I left for work, she stood in front of me, knowing she got kitty treats when I left. This was a daily ritual, and she never let me forget. The past few days my routine is out of whack. I learned that sharing the simplest things with someone might seem ordinary, but it means more than you think it does.

My girl has crossed to the Rainbow Bridge.
On the other side, her protector Wrigley and her sister Blue were waiting for her.
I am thankful for every moment this precious girl was in my life, and I pray that wherever she may be, she knows I loved her very much. A pet is family.

Until we meet again,
Angie