The death of a loved one is always very difficult. Somehow, for many of us the death of a pet is as painful and as devastating as that of a person. This past weekend, one of my mother's cats, a lovely tabby by the name of Chica, passed away.
Chica (or 'Xica' as my mother would spell her name in an alternative Portuguese spelling) meant the world to my mother. My mom had literally saved her life back in 1997 when she was a barely alive kitten found in a factory in a suburb of Cascais in Portugal. An acquaintance of my mother had said that that cat would forever adore my mom for having saved her life. How true that was.
Hardly a night would go by when Chica would not make a point of getting onto my mom's lap so that she could be stroked and adored once more. With an amazing pair of emerald green eyes and the funniest nasal squeak-groan for a meow, Chica was the decidedly overweight, hardly beautiful and yet irresistible feline matriarch of the house. Her ungainly waddle and heftiness her hallmark, she somehow commanded respect from the other cats, and she was a constant presence, a presence that only a cat can muster.
Chica lived too short a life. 13 years for an overweight cat with chronic health problems for many years may seem a long, good life, but it was always going to be far too short. Her sudden death swept through our household on Saturday, and I know that my poor mom will ache over her death for many days to come. She was almost certainly the cat who loved my mom the most intensely and the most intently. And she will leave a void. Not only in my mother's heart, but in mine too.
Many people simply do not understand nor empathize with the loss of a pet. They are all the poorer for it - I sincerely pity them for that poverty of spirit.
Bless you Chica, for you were a special one.
It has been over three weeks since I last posted on this blog. It seems very fitting that my first re-post is one that could hardly be more poignant or more personal, even if so sad.
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