Ending a chapter in my family history
She came into my life on a Saturday afternoon in September 2007.
The exact date: September 29, 2007.
Early that spring, I had lost the second of my last pair of cats — sibling deaf white cats from a litter born in 1990 on my mother’s Virginia farmlet. I then went ahead with a new kitchen project I’d been delaying, not wanting to upset the lives of elderly deaf cats.
The construction took a lot longer than I expected, but, finally, on Thursday, September 27, 2007, the certificate of occupancy was issued and the project was Officially Over.
I had long since lost patience with the construction delays. But, more, I was losing patience with having to go without cats in my life. The last time I’d been without cats for that long a period was far in the distant past… and I didn’t like it one bit.
I’d checked a number of shelters that had kittens during the week, but I wasn’t really expecting to find just the right kittens to bring home when I set out that Saturday to “start” seeing who might be available.
Yeah, right.
This little girl was one of two who came home with me that day, that Saturday, not quite 10 years ago. I sure didn’t expect to be writing the end to this chapter in my family history this soon.
Her brother, a ginger tabby, was screamingly red as a kitten. So his name had to be Clancy, which means “red warrior” in Gaelic. That meant I needed a Gaelic name for her. And with a perfect black nose, black toes and black tip of her tail, I named her Ciara, Gaelic for black or dark haired, though a name that meant “feisty mischievous lap cat” would have been more appropriate.
I first met her in the home where she was being fostered. She was a rescue from a feral colony and had probably been rescued before she was eight weeks old. Smaller than the other kittens being fostered, she had the dominant personality, and a purr that you could hear clear across a room.
She’s the first one who met me when I came into the house: standing at the glass door dividing the fostering room from the rest of the house and making it clear she was the absolute mistress of all she surveyed. With little short legs and a great big heart, she fit into my life like a hand in a glove.
Unlike some of her predecessor kitties, there were no grand adventures during Ciara’s time with me. Well, except for the day I heard her meowing, couldn’t find her at first, and eventually discovered she had gotten through the accordion fold at the side of the window air conditioner and was sitting out on the roof.
Mostly, it was just an amazingly rewarding, comfortable and comforting decade of cuddles and purrs and chasing laser dots and gazing out the door at the world going by. She was the one who was never more than a few feet, or inches, from my side whenever I was home. The one who was on my lap whenever she could make me sit long enough to get into it. The one who slept curled next to me.
A constant joyful loving presence.
She had some minor health issues over the years but, it seemed, they were just minor and responded immediately to treatment.
Except that this last one ended up not being minor at all. What I thought, two weeks ago, might be early stage kidney disease turned out to be a big, nasty, aggressive brain tumor, and it manifested in symptoms that developed with frightening speed. We thought we could try radiation if we could get her stable enough do that… but that never happened.
I asked a treasured friend how anybody knows what decision to make with a beloved pet, and his answer was simple. “You’ll know,” he said. And he was 100% right. When I went to the veterinary hospital yesterday to spend time with her, I knew. Without any doubt. She signaled as clearly as she could that she’d had it. That asking her tired ailing body to keep working was just too much to ask.
She knew I was there with her. She even managed a little tiny version of her usual mighty-motorboat purr. She snuggled into my arms and I held her as the drugs were administered.
It was quick. It was painless. It was astonishingly peaceful. And of course it was heartbreaking.
Yesterday, almost exactly 10 years after I brought her home, Ciara crossed over to the meadow where, I can only hope, she’ll be waiting for me so, with all the other animals I’ve ever loved, we can cross the Rainbow Bridge together.
Judy so sorry to be reading this! Ciara, may you RIP. Your mom took the time to share your story with us and I for one an honored she did just wish “we” could have “met” at a better time.
Peace
Oh you did it again – I am tearing up. Our pets are truly part of our family, and their loss is so profoundly difficult. As we always say in genealogy – they are never truly gone, as long as we are here to keep their memories alive.
True, I teared up too reading, and thinking about my/our furry kids.
Tears, as I read her beautiful story. I too, have lost that special cat and it leaves a hole in your heart. But, it sounds like there may be another lucky kitty waiting in the wings for you to rescue. And I bet Ciara will be guiding you to find the perfect one to love. Hugs to you Judy. ❤️ I pray for the pain to lighten quickly, as you move forward.
Oh, Judy, I am so sorry to hear about Ciara. I understand the pain of releasing beloved pets after years of their loving devotion. She is now without pain. Much love and light to you.
It was the “right thing” to do, Judy. May your tears soon turn to joy for her time with you.
Oh, Hugs, Judy. I’m crying with you. I’m so sorry. It is always too soon when they leave us.
What a lovely tribute! So sorry for your loss.
It’s true… your beloved pet tells you. The cat of my soul has kidney disease. She’s still happy and mostly healthy. I know she’ll tell me when she’s done.
Ciara had a wonderful life with you. You were the best thing that ever happened to her, and made the right decision to set her free from pain. It’s the greatest gift we can give our pets.
RIP, Ciara. All my best to you, Judy.
Your words show how much you loved her and she you. I’m so glad you were home and not traveling, that you were able to cuddle her close and let her go on her terms. She’s waiting for you. Her brother is there for you and will feel her loss, too. Sending love to you both.
I am so sorry for your loss.
Hang in there, Judes!
With lots of purrs.
Beautiful tribute. So sorry to hear of your loss . . . and thanks so much for sharing.
RIP Ciara.
I had to make a similar decision twice, two years ago, for my two elderly dogs. One had kidney failure and the other one had a large tumor. It was difficult, but I knew when it was time for both of them.
I’m sorry that you lost Ciara.
So sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing Ciara’s story. Each cat seems to take a little piece of our hearts when they leave. I have had the privilege of many cats in my life over the years. I grew up on a farm with a mother who was a cat-lover and over the years I have fostered many cats with health issues. I have had to say good-bye to many and it never gets easier but you know it is the right thing. I agree that cats communicate clearly when they are “done” with no more to give.
What a lovely tribute to Ciara! Bless you for taking the time in your life and room in your heart to giver her a wonderful home.
What a beautiful tribute to Ciara, Judy. I’ve mentioned before that I am not a cat person. Not only am I allergic to them, but I’ve just never taken much of a liking to one, either. But, I really do feel like I’ve fallen in love with Ciara, so I hope it will make you smile to know that, through your posts, she’s won the heart of of this non-cat person. May she rest in sweet, heavenly peace.
I’ll be praying for you.
Renate
What a beautiful little girl. It’s easy to see why you miss her so. You have brought tears to my eyes — the kind that can only be assuaged by a good Celtic lament, so I am sitting here listening to a recording of Margaret and Martyn Bennet performing one of the finest ever written, “Griogal Cridhe,” joining in on the chorus:
“Òbhan obhan obhan iri
Òbhan ìri ò
Òbhan òbhan òbhan ìri
‘S mòr mo mhulad ‘s mòr”
You are welcome to join in, even if you think you can’t carry a tune. There are several recordings to be found on line. All you have to do is take a deep breath and let the grief pour out of your heart as loud as you can, until it subsides to a manageable level.
Very sad and very courageous to let her go. I hope you get lots of cuddles from her brother Clancy who must be missing her too.
This is very sad to read, but understandable. I lost four cats in two years. Two to hyperthyroidism, one to severe asthma, and the last was hit by a car. The two that died of hyperthyroidism came from Japan when we moved back to the States, so losing them was extra hard. They’re all buried in a special spot in our yard and nothing goes near them, like its hallowed ground. Though I know they are happy and healthy where they are, it still hurts when I remember special things about them. Thank goodness we all added joy to each other’s lives. No doubt Ciara and you did, too.
I send you hugs from California. They are so stoic, it is sometimes hard to know when it is time to let them go. And it is still as painful as the loss of any other loved one. When it is right, I hope you will another joyful, unconditionally loving friend who purrs a greeting when you come in the door.
Judy, I am so sorry for your loss. I had a similar situation a few years ago with Chloe and throat cancer. Before we knew it, it was too late. Cancer sucks, and cancer with one of our fur babies is heartbreaking. Love on her brother, and I will love on my critters in Ciara’s name tonight and tomorrow. Each one of them will get a kiss for her.
I am so sorry for your loss. What a beautifully written tribute to your beloved Ciara. We lost our beloved kitty, Patch, five years ago to cancer, having to make that same difficult decision. May time help to heal your heartbreak, and may your sweet memories of her bring you comfort and peace. I do believe we will be reunited with our precious furry family members again one day.
So sorry for your loss. Ciara, you will be missed.
Such a beautiful tribute, such a dearly loved member of your family, she will certainly be missed. But she will never be forgotten, and will always be with you in your heart and in all those happy memories.
Such a beautiful cat! The pain of losing an animal is one of the saddest I know! May you find comfort and peace in knowing you loved her, she loved you. That’s about as good as it gets! Lovely tribute to your precious Ciara.
Oh my, the tears are flowing. I am so sorry for your loss but know Ciara is at peace and will be there for you when it’s time. Hugs.
Such a beautiful, loving, heartwarming story. Cats have a special way of winning the heart.
Such a beautiful tribute. RIP Ciara
Sorry for your loss. I know how it feels as I lost my 14 year old cat a month ago and will always miss her.
Hugs to you. ❤️
Peace to you, Judy. Kitty loss is always heartbreaking.
Reading of her presence in your life, know her absence is and will be profound. And know it’s a void I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Some solace in that there was little that could be humanely done to keep her here longer, and that you’ll be united on the other side. Wonderful tribute to furry family member.
Judy, I’m so sorry. We have rescued many cats over the years, and unfortunately, have had to make that decision many times. We do feel that having up to four cats is a good think because after you have to put one to sleep, the others are there to comfort you when you come home. Malcolm, Nancy, Boris, and I are thinking good thoughts in your direction.