Marlowe

 

Fifteen years ago I adopted these two kittens from our local Friendship Animal Protective League. They were the last two left from a litter of six front porch cats that had been surrendered to the shelter. I couldn't believe that these two were left; I thought they were adorable. I always wanted an orange cat and a grey cat, and Rick, who was under the assumption that we were there to get only one cat, thought he was being my hero when he said, "Don't try to decide. Just get them both."

Which was my plan all along.

Their shelter names were Dusty and Nike. If you look closely at the grey one, you can see the swoosh on her forehead. I renamed them Piper and Marlowe after looking into their eyes and allowing their names to come to me. (I think that's the best way to name all pets.)

I'm telling you this Origin Story because on Monday we had to say goodbye to Marlowe. Her decline was sudden and precipitous. She wasn't in any pain, but she stopped eating and was lethargic and confused. Uncharacteristically, her brother began staying close to her, holding her as she slept. When I took her to the vet, she was bloated, and the doctor said she had severe anemia and lymphoma. Treatment was available, but it would be very taxing and a positive outcome was a longshot. I made the decision to let her go, and it was the right one.

Here she is on the back of my chair. That's my head, bottom left. We match!

Marlowe was a huge cat, first of all. I'm pretty sure there was some Maine Coon in there. She had big, tufty feet and a glorious fluffy tail. One of her vets said she and Piper were the tallest cats she had ever seen. She hated to be brushed, which was unfortunate, because she was prone to mats. Grooming her was my part-time job because she made it a chore.

All of our leather chair backs sag because they were her cat beds.

She was almost like having a dog. She would play fetch with one particular toy, a blue plastic ring. I also taught her several tricks that she'd perform for treats. She would spin around, stand up on her hind legs, give paw, and sit. Piper didn't have to do anything for his treats because, well, Orange Cat. She was also very good about responding to commands such as Come, In, Up, and Down. She really was a very obedient girl. And if the squirrels were mobbing the peanut feeder on the porch and keeping my blue jays away, I could run her out there to scare them away. She was the best.

Monday was a beautiful sunny day. At the vet, Marlowe was calm and quiet in my arms, and I held her by the window so that we could look outside at the trees. I reminded her of all the time she spent out on the front porch with Rick and me and Piper enjoying the breeze and looking out at the neighbourhood and all the lunchtimes she shared with Sam. I told her what a good girl she was and how we loved her. As she slipped away, I felt relieved that she wasn't confused and lost anymore.

 

This is Piper with his Emotional Support Puppy. He loves it. I bought it for him at my funny grocery store for $3.99. (It's actually a dog toy. I had gotten one for Zydrunas because A) of course I did, and B) I think it looks like Zydrunas.) I didn't know how Piper would react to Marlowe being gone, and since he was snuggling her so much near the end, I thought he might like something to cuddle up to. 

So far, Piper has been doing okay. He vocalizes more, he wants me to sit with him a bit while he eats, but otherwise, he is himself. Rick misses Marlowe quite a bit. She liked to sit with him in the recliner. But only if he had jeans on. If he was wearing his pajamas or sweats, it was a no-go. And if he crossed his legs, she let him hear about it. 

I miss her, but I am still overcome with the feeling of gratitude that she is no longer ill and confused. Her condition near the end was heartbreaking for me. I was so at a loss. It was devastating. Now, it's over. I know I gave her a very good life, and she rewarded me many times over. 

When we adopt our pets, they are ours for better or worse, and we love and care for them in sickness and in health...'til death do us part. It's a sacred yet unspoken vow, and they depend upon us entirely. I'm glad I did not fail Marlowe.