In September of 1997 Bill and I went to pick tomatoes at our community garden plot on the South Side of Chicago. Those of you who remember the old Jim Croce song “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” will remember this area in the song being described as “the baddest part of town.” Indeed, it was a high crime area with a lot of poverty. A nun ran the community garden there next to the local Catholic church. As this was the closest plot to the apartment building where we lived as newlyweds, we drove on the expressway just to have our first garden together.
I grabbed a lunch-sized bag out of the car for picking the tomatoes. “Oh! Come here Weeks!” Bill whispered. Underneath a large cabbage leaf were five sets of tiny kitten eyes. The kittens were small enough to sit in the palm of my hand. There was a fence around the garden so it was clear that they had been born there. Their mother was nowhere in sight.
“I can’t come back and find these kittens dead,” I told Bill. “We need to find them homes.” We collected four of the five kittens and the fifth scurried under the fence, never to be seen again. All four kittens fit into the little lunch bag. In time we found homes for all of them but two came back to live with us. Mies (after the architect) with his cute white paws lived with us within a couple of days of being found and his fluffy sister Meg (named by a Japanese man with a crush on Meg Ryan) came to live with us when her owner returned to Japan.
Mies and Meg were delighted when we started FunQuilts. We were suddenly home all day and filled the studio with lots of soft place to nap. We negotiated many business deals with one or both of them lying on our laps or next to the speaker phone during a conference call.
When we returned from China with a 10-month-old girl who had never seen a cat, they didn’t flinch when she screamed upon seeing them. They patiently let her touch them and get used to them. Both cats proved to have magical calming properties for cranky toddlers and grown-ups alike.
Meg was a really smart cat. She had an incredibly mechanical mind. Instead of meowing when she wanted fresh food in the middle of the night, she would sit of the lid of the toilet and flush it over and over with her paw until she got her way. Although they sat on the back porch some of the day in good weather, we put them inside when we’d go out to run errands.
One sunny day we came home and Meg was sitting on her favorite chair outside and the back door was open. Later we figured out that she had jumped up, grabbed the door lever with her paws and let herself out! No one would believe that she had done this until a neighbor who was cat-sitting accidentally locked himself out. He was standing outside trying to figure out how to get back into the house when Meg jumped up on the lever and opened the door for him. Eventually we had to replace the lever so the back door to our house would not be opened whenever she was feeling naughty.
Meg was a world-class snuggler and seemed delighted whenever anyone was home sick in bed. She was the sentry of the sick and wouldn’t leave the bed until the patient had made a full recovery. But it turned out that it was she who was the sick one.
I took her for a routine blood test on December 23 and was stunned when the vet told me that she had advanced cancer of the liver. She quickly began to lose weight and energy. It was painful for all of us to watch. By Monday morning we realized that it was time to say goodbye.
We are lucky to have a compassionate vet who makes housecalls under these circumstances. It was a snowy day and Meg sat on my lap in her favorite chair next to the window while the vet gave her the shots. We cried and cried and said our goodbyes. The wise vet suggested that we bring Mies to see his sister so he would know that she had died. The vet warned us that he might become depressed. He spent the rest of the day and night making sad cat vocalizations putting into sounds what we were all feeling.
We decided before Meg died that since the ground is frozen, we would have her cremated and sprinkle her ashes eventually next to our compost pile which is a major gathering spot for field mice. In nice weather, Meg would hide under the shrubs and watch the mice. One day I went to let her into the house and she had brought a live one in her mouth with her! So we thought that it would be the perfect final resting spot for her.
On the night after Meg died, I snuggled in bed with our daughter and talked about what Meg might be up to in cat heaven. She’d find the warmest, softest place near the treats we decided. I don’t know whether our daughter will believe in an after-life in the years to come but as a sad parent I really needed to cling to the image of a healthy, happy Meg sleeping and purring the days away.
15 thoughts on “Missing Meg”
So sorry for your loss. It sounds like Meg had a wonderful life and brought you many years of joy.
Tears. Losing a pet is hard and I so understand your loss. My heart is with you.
This is so terribly sad. You have written so beautifully and painted such a wonderful picture of your family life with your cat. I’m sorry for your loss. :(
Your loving kitten is happy in that heaven you believe. We too have felt the intense loss of fur covered family members, it is no less acute than the loss of a human loved one. Animals have souls & give their love to us just the same as if they could speak our words. May all your days be blessed with the love you gave & received from her.
I am truly so sorry for your loss. We just lost our kitty right after the New Year. He was too young to leave us and became sick very suddenly with congestive heart disease. I still miss my Rolo, but I bet that he and Meg are playing in kitty heaven right now. I hope so.
Thanks for your kind words everyone. At first I thought that I shouldn’t post this because it is sad and it’s not on the topic of inspiration. I changed my mind when a Craft Nectar reader I met at a workshop last weekend told me that she appreciated “getting to know” me through this blog. As so many of you have noted, lots and lots of people experience the heartbreak of losing a pet so I thought that it would be nice to share that part of life too. Jackie, Meg was a very maternal cat so I’m guessing that she’s grooming Rolo right this minute and getting her scent all over him. Thanks for that lovely image.
I also am so sorry for your family’s loss. It takes a while to get over the loss of a pet, its definitely not a quick one. Thanks for sharing this story, hopefully remembering the many aspects of your cat’s individuality will make this passage a least a little easier.
Our loving pets hold a place in our family and our hearts. Even though your hearts a filled with the sadness of loss, your words tell me that the joy Meg brought to your lives will live with you forever.
Meg sounds like an amazing cat – full of fun and love. My heart goes out to you, Bill and Sophie.
I am sorry for your loss. This really struck a chord with me because we too just had to put down a beloved member of our family. We also were surprised during a vet visit to find out our dog who was suddenly losing weight had advanced cancer. One of the hardest things in my life so far. I’m glad you had the chance to say goodbye, we were not as lucky, as he had to be put down almost immediately because he was in pain. Best wishes to you and your family, I wish peace for you all.
I am so sorry.
What a loving tribute to your sweet kitty. It always amazes me — the relationships that we humans develop with other animals, particularly with cats. I think Meg’s spirit will remain, and I hope that if it does, it brings you comfort.
The story of how Meg and Mies came into your lives is beautiful. Weren’t they the wise little souls to find their way to you, Bill and Sophie? Thanks for sharing such a touching story. It brings tears to my eyes.
Beautifully said Weeks, I’ll remember my last visit with her!! Much love to you and the family. Judy
So sorry for your loss. Have you seen Cynthia Rylant’s book “Cat Heaven”? It helped me and my daughter through our loss.