It has taken me awhile to be able to write this post, and I would rather not do it. But I owe it to my best friend to dedicate a farewell to him.
Smokie passed away on November 17, 2011. I knew it was coming, he had been sick for awhile. Still, I was not really prepared for him to go this specific day. Smokie is a cat I rescued during one of the big pet adoptions in 1996. He was in a cage with a big orange sign that said "senior citizen" on it. I was drawn to him immediately. When Dennis opened the cage door, Smokie climbed out right onto his shoulder and stayed there. We kind of chuckled, and when I stepped closer, Smokie transferred to my shoulder without hesitation. OK, I'm a sucker. I had been adopted. I walked with him still on my shoulder to the checkout, filled out the forms, and took him home. All the volunteers were so excited that 'grandpa' had been adopted, and would be in a loving home for his 'final years'. He was 6 years old, but had been living in a kennel for the last year waiting to be adopted. I think the 'senior' sign may have saved him for me.
Smokie was only the second cat I had adopted, and the first full grown. My first cat, Kitty Kitty was adopted as a kitten, was 2 years old. I didn't know how they would get along, so I put Smokie in my bedroom with food and a litter box and closed the door. I checked on him frequently, mostly because every time I opened the door, he would be sitting on the corner of my bed as if waiting patiently for me to come back. He would greet me with a grunt while throwing his chin up in the air. We all thought this was so funny we would stand in the hallway and repeatedly open and close the door just to get a response. Smokie didn't disappoint, every time that door opened he would grunt. We learned that this was his usual method of communication. He would meow, but that was a raspy combination of a grunt and a squawk. Later, when his asthma set in, this raspy meow would literally sound more like a dog bark!
It didn't take long for Smokie to become my shadow. He would follow me throughout the house, sit with me, sleep next to my head, wake me in the morning for my meds (which coincided with his morning meal), and greet me at the door when I returned home. The adoption volunteers gave us the idea that he would not live for vary long, since he was 'old ya know'. We had a hard time believing he was 'old' since he pulled off some pretty amazing feats. He jumped out of a second story window (twice), climbed onto everyone, and anything, but most endearing was when he felt the dog (Hunter was 100# lab) was giving me a hard time, he would literally beat up the dog. He didn't leave scratch marks, or hurt Hunter, but he would run up and pummel him with his paws enough to make Hunter cower in the corner! Hunter would never look directly at Smokie. In fact, when he entered the room, Hunter would obviously look the other way, but only with his eyes. At times, this was very comical! The cats would frequently seek out warm spots in the house to sleep, only to find the next day someone else had stolen their spot. No one ever tried to steal Smokie's place next to my head, or the seat next to me. It's as if they knew what he was capable of if they got caught!
Smokie was with us for 15 years. He was 21 years when he had to be put to sleep. His little body had lost several pounds, his kidneys had given up, and you could just tell it was time. Yet I knew he didn't want to go. I just knew he would stay by my side as long as his body would hold out, and never regret any day he could spend with me, no matter how miserable he might have been. During that last ride to the vet he clung to me so tight, as if somehow knowing. Of course I cried the whole time.
Now his spots are empty most of the time. My other cats are slowly starting to sit next to me for short periods of time, but no one tries the space on my bed next to my pillow, and I think it probably will remain that way. His spot in my heart, however, will never be empty, as he will always be with me there.
