My Sweet Little Apple Pie Girl

One year ago today, my sweet little apple pie girl, Whozit, crossed over the rainbow bridge. She was 19 years old, and it was a long-awaited trip. Miss Hooty, as I mostly called her, was a gorgeous tortoiseshell kitty who came into my life when I was in college. It all started when I was doing some general out-loud pondering at work one day about maybe, possibly, thinkin' about, perhaps getting a kitten. Someday. Well, as I mentioned in my first blog, one has to be careful what one sets in motion. My boss, such a kind woman, told me a few days later that a friend had some kittens available for adoption and wouldn't I like to go see them?

Hmph. Well, yes, I guessed I would. It was springtime and kittens are fluffy and sweet and I was dating a Special Man that I was considering a future with and so getting a kitten would just put the icing on the cake. I was 20 years old and nesting, after all. So Mr. Man and I trotted on over to this lady's apartment and sat on the floor with a bedlam of kittens. They were adorable and I loved them all, but Miss Whozit was special. Beautiful, sweet, and simply herself, she was destined to be my girl. Mr. Man--who was later dubbed That Man by my father, and for good reason--became enamored with a darling little yellow orange boy, so we took him home, too.

Boy kitty--eventually named Bubba when he grew into his full girth--and Whozit lived out a fairly pleasant life with me. The only hitch in the plan came when, at 6 months of age, Whozit decided that Bubba was public enemy #1, so their great love affair died on the vine quite early. I think Bubs could never quite understand why she withdrew her love so quickly and fully, but the truth is, he had run away from home for a week and no woman wants to put up with that kind of inconsistency in a man. She did what she had to do, although even I will admit she hung on to that grudge with a remarkable determination. Those little beasties went through several moves with me, a few painful life-changing events, and, most of all, just a lot of growing up. It probably exhausted them. Bubs crossed the rainbow bridge in 2000, and if I'd been blogging then, I would have written a poem about his sweet, innocent, big, loving self. Even though I promised Whozit that I wouldn't get any more animals, I renegged on that promise with lightning-fast speed when a cute little stray kitten wandered into the neighborhood. I like to think that she forgave me that, although I doubt it. She tolerated the intrusion of two more kitties, a rabbit, and innumerable foster cats along the way. I bet she started every day with the deep sigh of a martyr.

Presumably feeling that she had tolerated more than enough in her lifetime, she took her last breath at 2:20 in the morning on April 1, 2006. She had been fighting an autoimmune disorder for 5 years, and it wasn't an easy existence for her. She stuck with it, though, probably mostly for my sake, and put up with my annoying ministrations. She even gave me the gift of waiting until I got home from a trip so that I could be with her when she died (please excuse my anthropomorphism, but I just can't help it). I thought it was beautifully ironic that she chose April Fool's Day for her departure.

I hope that Hooty is chasing mice and drinking beer with Jesus now, if that's what makes her happy. I doubt, even in the hereafter, that she has smoothed things out with Bubs, but maybe that's okay in Kitty Heaven. She stops by in my dreams from time to time, and I'm always happy to see her. So today I post this blog in tribute to Whozit, and also to Chopper, Beaux, Romeo, Murphy and to Bonnie's beautiful dog, whose name I can't remember just this moment. Thanks for the memories.