I will attempt to type my feelings and memories through trembling fingers and tear-filled eyes. In July 2000, I went to NorthPark Mall in Dallas. My friends Carmen and Brion were about to come visit me from Nebraska and I was in the mood for a new pair of shoes. I walked out of the mall instead with a one-year-old cat whom I named Purrkins. The SPCA was set up outside Dillards and I fell in love with her and her beautiful coat with the Target logos on each side. Her beautiful blue eyes glistened and she posed with a regal presence. Her "motor" roared in celebration each time she was petted or held closely. I often wondered what her first year of life was like before we met, she and I settled into a happy life together very quickly.
Jay was just as smitten with Purrkins as I was. They too became fast friends and between the two of us, Purrkins was given many nick-names. Pookie-boo, Boo, Boo-kitty, P-kitty, and on and on. The three of us moved into our current house together more than 11 years ago. She was unwilling to simply live within the confines of our home. She was drawn to the outside, especially in the brutal Texas summer. She taught Jay and I to trust her and allow her to live part of her days outside while we were home. It was something we knew was a risk, and we were prepared to leverage that risk against her having a happy, fun-filled life on her terms. While she explored our front and back yard, we have memories of Purrkins climbing 8' fences, jumping up on our garage roof, racing through piles of leaves while we raked in the fall, sunning herself under bushes and plants while she raised her nose toward the sun with what appeared to be a huge smile.
Like everyone, Jay and I have had our share of having to play some difficult hands. Due to the complicated and unpredictable nature of life, we were forced to make our own family which we chose to fill with pets. Purrkins was the centerpiece of our family and our two miniature dacshunds came around in 2007 to turn our family of three into a family of five. For the most part, the dogs and Purrkins got a long very well. There was a mischievous side to Purrkins and she would sometimes tease the dogs or try to get them to chase her knowing that she could spring up quickly on a bed or piece of furniture and leave them feeling inadequate to her athletic abilities and agility.
I couldn't make the bed or change the sheets without her springing up to shuffle the blanket or sheets all around before darting around the room like a pin ball in a machine headed for a record-breaking score.
But that's all in the past now.
Just like that, in an instant, she was taken from us. I can't bear to type or think about the details beyond the fact that she is gone. That alone feels unbearable to me as I swim through my grief that is barely 24-hours old. I would be admitting to be a fool if I thought that she would live forever. Her 15-year-old body was beginning to fail her in ways that Jay and I could see but we didn't want to admit. But we thought we would have more time. More time to love her. More time to hold her. An opportunity to say goodbye. I guess I just can't believe that there is such an immense hole in my heart and an emptiness in our home. I am going to miss her terribly and miss the fact that she will no longer be part of my daily routine.
Of course we know that time will help us learn to live without her. Other highs and lows will come and go and fill our days up with stress, happiness, worry, doubts, dreams, hopes, and fears. But for now, it hurts. It hurts deeply and horribly and I wish I could fast-forward through whatever amount of time is going to take to be at peace with this loss.
Thank you for your sensitivity to my feelings at this time, there will never be another Purrkins, and that is a damn shame.
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