Advent And Loss

Our old cat died today.

Purrl was 14 years old, a Texas cat as rangy and prickly as a mesquite tree, as spastic as a rabid coyote, as affectionate as a lovestruck Lulabelle.

She had been going downhill since Bonnie died. So skinny…when she sprawled out in front of the wood stove, she looked like a tractor wheel had smushed her down flat. She was nervous, restless, unhappy. And today, she left this world and went into the next.

Purrl was an extraordinarily sweet cat. She used to pat my wife’s face with the pink pads of her paw, pulling my wife’s face to look directly into her eyes — unusual for a cat.

She had a crookedy tail and a jutting rib, and there was something odd about her mouth…she could never eat properly. She shoveled food into her mouth like a bulldozer scoops gravel. She ate out of a little hand-painted Japanese dish, and she loved catnip, and she hated our barn cat. I believe she was jealous of him. Purrl had an extraordinary smile…devious and self-aware.

I said a prayer for Purrl today, and I asked that she might find Bonnie (and Butternut, her friend, who died some years ago). I asked that she might find herself in acres and acres of catnip.

The house is so quiet tonight. Dixee, who is my wife’s little dog, seems lost and anxious. Perhaps she worries about all the loss and all the changes. She is sticking close to us, not wanting us out of her sight.

The house is so quiet tonight.

Good-bye, little Purrly Mae. I will look for you and your crookedy tail and your devious smile on the other side.

~ S.K. Orr