kiev4a
Well-known
She joined our family during a 1990 visit to the Los Angeles area. We named the eight-week-old Himalayan kitten “Wicket’s Ework Lovey Be Mine.” The “Ewok” came from her resemblance to the furry little creatures in a Star Wars movie. Her large, round blue eyes gave her a perpetual “deer-in-the-headlights” look. The “Be Mine” was because she was born on Valentine’s Day.
Visitors usually referred to Lovey as the “Ghost Cat.” That’s because the only glimpse strangers usually got of her was a white ball of fur slinking off to a hiding place. That fur, similar in texture to cotton, coated everything, and she produced enough of it in a year to knit a large sweater. Another bad point was she sometimes had a hard time hitting her litter box.
When only family was around, Lovey would appear. If you said hello she responded with a “MEEOOOW” much louder than what you would expect from a cat her size. And if you asked her nicely, she would flop on the floor and roll over. She was a one-trick cat, but it was a good one.
Lovey wasn’t like our other cats. Our daughters sometimes referred to her affectionately as “Poor, dumb Lovey.” But we all knew she wasn’t dumb. She was simply a different breed of cat who marched to a different drummer.
Lovey arrived when our kids where pretty well grown. She had no experience with little children. Therefore, we were a surprised when she formed an attachment to Amazing Grace, our first grandchild. The cat put up with overenthusiastic pats and shouts that would have sent her scurrying for cover if delivered by an adult.
A month ago we went on vacation. When we returned we discovered Lovey wasn’t eating solid food. We tried tempting her with everything from gourmet cat food to steak and bacon (her favorites) but she refused to eat. She would only sip a little milk and water. She lost weight. Last Saturday I noticed she seemed wobbly. I told my partner in life it was time and she reluctantly agreed.
The vet asked if someone wanted to be with Lovey. I didn’t, but I couldn’t let her be alone with strangers. They put us in a small examination cubicle while my mate remained in the waiting room. I held Lovey on my lap, petted her and scratched her under her chin. We sat there for nearly twenty minutes. When she became restless. I told her what a fine cat she was and sang her an old song from the 1950s -- “The Cat Came Back.” She seemed to like it.
The vet, a young woman, came in. After some preparations I put Lovey on a sheepskin pad on a table and stroked her fur. The vet pushed a plunger. Lovey laid her head on her paws, closed her eyes, made a low purring sound and was gone.
Sara joined us. We stood there petting Wicket’s Ewok Lovey Be Mine -- crying over a cat who was seldom seen and could only do one trick.
Researchers claim having a pet around can make you healthier. Losing a pet can break your heart.
Visitors usually referred to Lovey as the “Ghost Cat.” That’s because the only glimpse strangers usually got of her was a white ball of fur slinking off to a hiding place. That fur, similar in texture to cotton, coated everything, and she produced enough of it in a year to knit a large sweater. Another bad point was she sometimes had a hard time hitting her litter box.
When only family was around, Lovey would appear. If you said hello she responded with a “MEEOOOW” much louder than what you would expect from a cat her size. And if you asked her nicely, she would flop on the floor and roll over. She was a one-trick cat, but it was a good one.
Lovey wasn’t like our other cats. Our daughters sometimes referred to her affectionately as “Poor, dumb Lovey.” But we all knew she wasn’t dumb. She was simply a different breed of cat who marched to a different drummer.
Lovey arrived when our kids where pretty well grown. She had no experience with little children. Therefore, we were a surprised when she formed an attachment to Amazing Grace, our first grandchild. The cat put up with overenthusiastic pats and shouts that would have sent her scurrying for cover if delivered by an adult.
A month ago we went on vacation. When we returned we discovered Lovey wasn’t eating solid food. We tried tempting her with everything from gourmet cat food to steak and bacon (her favorites) but she refused to eat. She would only sip a little milk and water. She lost weight. Last Saturday I noticed she seemed wobbly. I told my partner in life it was time and she reluctantly agreed.
The vet asked if someone wanted to be with Lovey. I didn’t, but I couldn’t let her be alone with strangers. They put us in a small examination cubicle while my mate remained in the waiting room. I held Lovey on my lap, petted her and scratched her under her chin. We sat there for nearly twenty minutes. When she became restless. I told her what a fine cat she was and sang her an old song from the 1950s -- “The Cat Came Back.” She seemed to like it.
The vet, a young woman, came in. After some preparations I put Lovey on a sheepskin pad on a table and stroked her fur. The vet pushed a plunger. Lovey laid her head on her paws, closed her eyes, made a low purring sound and was gone.
Sara joined us. We stood there petting Wicket’s Ewok Lovey Be Mine -- crying over a cat who was seldom seen and could only do one trick.
Researchers claim having a pet around can make you healthier. Losing a pet can break your heart.
