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ANNIE, THE CAT'S MEOW

 I first met Annie back in February 2004 after Milan told me to let him know what I wanted for for Valentine’s Day and he promised would get it for me no matter what it was. He has often joked that he should have have put some conditions on that. But he didn’t, and so I headed straight to the Humane Society animal shelter.

It had been two long years since we had put our beloved Maine Coon cat to sleep, a big pile of what appeared to be nothing but fur, but had a huge heart hidden inside. We had named him Ollie in honor of Col. Oliver North who was our news hero at the time.
I entered the cat compound at the Humane Society. There were only two cats inside, a brown tabby who ran to the other side of the pen away from me, and a little black and white girl who came running over to me and when I picked her up, she snuggled her head under my chin and began to purr. It was love at first sight.
She was new there and they had not given her a name so I called her Annie. She was always smaller than the average cat, even when full grown, so we dubbed her Little Annie.
We knew she must have had a home somewhere before she came to the shelter because she was very loving, and appeared to have been well cared for. Even more telling,we were not able to get her to drink any water until she jumped up on Milan’s bathroom sink one day when the water was running, put her head directly under the faucet and began to drink. It was clear this was not a new experience for her.
We were told by our veterinarian two years ago when our other cat died at a very young age that Annie was probably a carrier for the feline kidney disease that killed him, and it would possibly cause her death when she became older.
And so it was that we knew the time had come these past few weeks as her behaviour changed and her litter box habits were affected.
We took her to the vet this week who confirmed there was nothing more she could do for Annie, and so once again we said good-bye to a precious famiy member.
The protective cloths spread over the sofa and chairs are now gone. The litter boxes and feeding dishes are gone. The tall climbing tower in front of my office windows is gone. But so is the soul of our house. I wonder if I will remember to open the blinds on the sunny side of my office as soon as I get up without her jumping up on her tower seat and scolding me for not opening them before I sat down.
I know not everyone will understand how an animal can mean so much to those of us who dote on them. In this world there are two kinds of people - those who have house pets and those who have sparkling clean houses all the time.
As a pastor I was often asked, especially by children, if their dog or cat would go to heaven when they died. Theologically, I never knew what to say and I really doubt that you know either. But if heaven is a perfect place of complete happiness and contentment, and we believe that it is, then it is not unreasonable to think our beloved animals will greet us there.
Rest in peace, sweet Little Annie. I will miss you most of all this winter as I remember how we would curl up together under the electric blanket for Sunday afternoon naps, and you would lay your paw on top of the control so I couldn’t turn it off. You were really the “cat’s meow” when it came to feline intelligence. You taught us all there is no such thing as a dumb animal.
© December 17, 2012 by Joan Rowden Hart

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