My cat, Groucho died Sunday evening of a heart attack. He had no symptoms of heart disease. He collapsed and died within five minutes. There was no warning that he was even ill. It was a complete shock.
He was the apple of my eye and a gift from my deceased Great-Aunt Margaret. Saturday the 4th was the tenth anniversary of Aunt Margaret’s death, and Groucho died a day later. She brought him to me at a very dark time in my life. Aunt Marg, never one to pawn off stray animals, unexpectedly called me to say that she had seen this little kitten that looked like “he should belong to you.”
He was such a sweet gentle cat that he wouldn’t even scratch under duress. It is if he was a gift from God given when I needed unconditional love most, and taken when the time came for me to let that pain go. I say this because with the type of heart disease he had, he should not have lived beyond that age of five or six and in April 2011 he would have been twelve. He was there when part of my life was at its worst and he came all the way with me until now when I am closing in upon a long journey of forgiveness and healing. By all statistics he should have been gone years ago, but he was with me six years longer than he should have been, completely pain and sickness-free until the last few minutes of his life.
I am heartbroken. I have lost not only a beloved and faithful companion, but also one of the last cherished gifts Aunt Marg ever gave me. Because as time has gone on, there are fewer and fewer living reminders of Aunt Marg and that time in my life, I am over the top emotional. For the next few days I am not sewing, writing, catching up on email, or scanning my feeds.
Just a mess,