A Tribute to Chaya

We lost our cat, Chaya, to bladder cancer a year ago today. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought about her, missed her and looked at her photos. The passage of time has made it easier; it’s not as painful as it was at first. But I still miss her just as much; she was such a special girl and I adored her. We know that if everything goes according to plan, we will outlive our pets, and that is the way it should be, but it doesn’t make it any easier. If I live to be 101, and she had died a day before me, it would have been a day too soon.

I’m grateful for all the joy she brought to our lives and I’m glad for all the wonderful photos and memories I have of her. Some of my favorites:

° When we brought Chaya home, we already had our first cat, Lindy, so we kept the two of them separated for the first week. I slept with Chaya in the guest bedroom so she wouldn’t be alone, and she slept on my pillow, with her nose in my ear, purring all night. Each time I left the room, she would try to get out by jumping on my back. The cat version of hitchhiking.

° Chaya loved to play with Lindy. Lindy, not so much. Lindy loved to look out the window and bird watch, her tail vigorously swishing back and forth. Chaya loved to watch Lindy’s tail. And bat at it. Which would cause Lindy to turn around and hiss at her. So Chaya would stop for a minute, then Lindy would turn around, go back to bird watching and tail swishing, and the whole cycle would begin again. Chaya also tried to play with Lindy, wanting to wrestle with her. Lindy hated it, protesting loudly. When Mario or I walked over to see what was going on, Chaya would sit up innocently, her look saying, “I’m not doing anything.” Except she usually had a mouthful of white fur.

° She spent a lot of time in my office when she was younger watching me work. I nicknamed her “the kitty who never sleeps.” And she was fascinated with the printer. As soon as she heard it click on, she would hop on my desk and stare at the paper coming out of it, trying to figure out the magic that was causing this to happen. When she got older, she slept more, sometimes on a shirt that I put on my desk as a bed for her, often right in the middle of a big dog bed on the floor, earning her the nickname, “Little Black Spot.”

° I miss looking down at her, having her look back up at me with her big, beautiful eyes. I always picked her up as she loved to be held and would stay in my arms for a long time, as long as I was standing or walking around. If I wanted to give her to Mario, she would reach out for his shoulder and then snuggle in with him.

° Chaya had a mischievous streak. She was mostly an indoor cat but loved spending time outdoors, hanging out with me while I gardened or near Mario while he worked in the yard. We didn’t want her to be outside when it got dark though, but she thought that was a grand idea. She’d be nearby, and one of us would look for her to bring her in, and she’d be gone. We’d walk around calling for her, knowing that she was close, hiding under a bush, but “hide and seek” was fun for her. As a black kitty in the shadows, she became “Invisi-kitty.” She always came in, usually on her terms, unless we lucked into finding her.

° When she wanted something specific, and there was a cabinet in the vicinity, Chaya would open the cabinet door and then let it slam shut. If she wanted to be fed, she would stand under the counter where her food was, open that door, let it slam shut and then look over in our direction. If she wanted to go in the garage, she would do the same thing with the cabinets in the mudroom. Ditto if she wanted to lie in the cabinets in the family room, where there was a towel that she used as a bed. Smart girl.

° She loved mint. She would lick a mint if one of us were eating one and kiss us after we brushed our teeth.

° She went through a phase where every night when we got ready for bed, she came running into our bathroom and hopped into the bathtub. She did this every night for weeks. We often talked about how funny it would be to fill the tub beforehand,just to see her reaction. Of course, we never did it, but we still laugh when talking about it.

° When she was ready for bed, she would hop up on the bench in front of our bed and look at me, as if to say, “Come on. Let’s go. I want to snuggle with you and go to sleep.” She’d wait for me to get in bed, then I’d pat my hip, and she’d settle against my hip and sleep there for the night. It was our routine. I miss feeling her warm body leaning against me and scratching her until I fell asleep.

° One of my most cherished memories is a an unusually warm day last November. I went outside to read and enjoy the sun, and she found me, hopped up on my lap and went to sleep. We knew she was sick at that point, and I just wanted to stay outside with her on my lap forever. (Photo below.)

° I had shoulder surgery last December, about six weeks before she passed away. I spent most of the first couple of weeks recovering in a recliner, and she spent almost all that time on my lap. And I slept in the recliner for at least the first month, and she slept on my lap every night. It was brutal recovering from that surgery, but I would do it all over again to have more time with her.

Ellen