Requiem for Bella

Her name meant beautiful and she was in every way.  She always stayed away from the kids but let them pet her today.  She wouldn't have anything to do with me either when T and I started dating.  I didn't really get to see her at all the first month, though occassionally I'd hear her meowing loudly at me--persumably objecting into my intrusion into her domain.  One day, she was behind the entertainment center and scared the bejeebers out of me as she bolted out.  For whatever reason, she strode right up to me one day and let me pet her and from then on, we were best buddies.  T joked that she had become my cat.  Being a dog person as a kid, I thought that was quite an accomplishment.

We knew this day was coming but you always think and hope that it will be a bit further off into the future.  She had increasing problems with spitting up her food over the last year; we'd changed food several times (and feeding routines) and each new one would help for a little while.  Lately, she'd been spitting up many hours after eating and the food would/should have been digested.  Plus, it didn't really look like food; T diagnosed it as bile.  Last night, T heard her giving some painful cries and she spit up twice this morning.  The vet had told us previously that there wouldn't be much more they could do w/o invasive surgery and we didn't want to put her through that, not at 16 years old.  So we knew the choice that was to be made when we took her in today. 

Only C was old enough to understand what was happening.  Lil E, though, made the sign for cat and meowed as T and the kids left the vet.  C had a sad day and got frustrated more easily than normal, but all things considered took it well.  When I returned T's phone message, he answered and told me the news; and when I arrived home, he relayed the news in a kid's overly direct way:  "Bella's dead already."  He usually doesn't add his own prayer at bedtime; tonight he added one for Bella.  Amen.