Here is an eulogy I read today at the burial for Lucy, a cat who touched our lives.

When Evelyn Kocher died untimely, a long time ornery traveler with my mother and me to the Pittsburgh Symphony, she left behind more than just physical possessions like an expensive violin which no one knew about, but she also left a ferocious cat. When Myron, her brother, came to handle the estate, as she was sitting in his lap, he claims, for no reason, she suddenly bit his hand. As a result he got a serious infection that required treatment. Cats have bacteria in their saliva that some people react to, but his reaction went beyond the physical as he considered putting Lucy down, and who he termed a “feral cat.” At the time we had Isaac, a black Siamese-American-domestic cat that came from the Thompsons. Isaac’s prior friend was Mocha, by far our most favorite Wire Hair Terrier to date. Mocha, who is buried in this plot, also died an untimely death from thyroid cancer in the prime of his life. He was in very good shape, would fetch Frisbees, jump up the sides of trees, and was a good listener. I suspect if Lucy – 11 years old at the time of her death – had known him, she would have said “What a silly dog, why doesn’t he ever take it easy,” and she certainly would have taken several swipes at him with her declawed paws that packed quite a punch. Perhaps it was the lack of these claws that worked against her being able to properly groom herself during her life, however, there was probably more to it than that.

Lucy became the new replacement for Mocha because the imminent death that Evelyn’s brother was planning for her was intolerable to us. Getting her from Evelyn’s house to our house was the first trial. Lucy absolutely hated to be picked up, the only real way to accomplish this was through a variety of strategies. I employed the towel strategy, and knowing there would be a fight with this “feral cat” I placed an animal carrier close to the vicinity. Also, I wore heavy gloves and other protective gear. After two tries, of calmly attempting to throw a heavy towel on her, I finally nabbed her, and thus started our close relationship. For a long time she remained primarily a cat who would bite you almost in a moment if you didn’t abide by her special rules. I rarely tried to pick her up, because she really had a mind of her own. She even had a variety of meows, one in particular that sounded like a bird. Myron thought that Lucy had been taken away from her mother too early perhaps explaining her personality and even the fact that she really never groomed herself, which is a strange phenomenon for any cat. Over the years, we would have to fight the fur clumps that formed on her back, she liked being brushed, but when she grew tired of having hairs clumps removed she would retaliate, so you had to be prepared for a blood letting on your body at any moment. Nevertheless, I think she really liked the whole process, even the part where she got to scream at you and attack. Another of her peculiarities was that she really didn’t care much about jumping, yet she turned out to be quite the hunter, and massacred a nest of field mice that had become uninvited tenants in our house.

At 20 years of age, Lucy’s best friend, Isaac, who is buried in this plot beside her, passed away. We never really gauged just how close this friendship was, but would soon find out. After we got a new cat – sprightly Diva who like Lucy was a rescue cat – it wasn’t long before Lucy fell into a state that we thought was resentment over the new cat. Lucy thought she would be the next top-cat, and now Diva was taking over the show. I now theorize perhaps that Diva brought with her a virus that mutates into FIP, but regardless, it wasn’t long before Lucy stop eating, and soon lost weight, too much weight. We took her to the local animal hospital who explored on all possibilities they could verify, who then sent us to a better hospital where they could look into deeper causes. Although, they never did figure out what caused her lack of desire to eat, another theory I had at the time was that she had been exposed to some toxicity in the new food that came with Diva. Around this time many cats were dying from certain brands of food tainted with Aflatoxin, and the symptoms of the poisoning included loose of appetite. But, it’s hard to know, maybe Lucy was mourning for Isaac. A kind nurse who spent a large amount of time with Lucy, found out she liked a certain brand of food, and was able to hand-feed her this food at the hospital. At the same time they had introduced Valium. When Lucy came back home, it was the Valium that completely brought an appetite back to her after weeks and weeks of syringe feeding. This created a very strong bond to life, perhaps the one Myron claims she lacked as a baby with her mother. Eventually she returned back to normal. But more normal than any of us could ever have imagined. In the process she had started to play, and she would join in with Diva in games. It was monumental.

This whole experience changed her and she became a new cat. She had been so close to death, but now it was like she had been reborn. She would come upstairs and visit us, always asking permission. After the carpets were removed from upstairs, and the wood underneath was finished, we required the cats to be in the basement. But Diva changed this rule because she insisted on being upstairs, eventually Lucy would not only courteously ask for permission, but would comes upstairs even if there wasn’t a response because it was clear to her that she was always welcome. Diva, with her well adapted social skills was clearly another key to Lucy’s transformation.

Lucy would even jump up on the chair to briefly be on my lap, or would jump on another chair to watch us. The chairs, like the floors, had similar rules applied, especially since they had been refurbished, but it was so refreshing to see her being social that we didn’t disallow this behavior, though a covering on the chairs became mandatory. Lucy would allow you to pick her up as long as it was with one hand. It’s a strange legacy of her life, that when she recently grew very sick, and consequently very weak, that all the unfinished normal social skills of her life were now completed. I could pick her up with both hands, and carry her around. She made it clear she wanted to be with us on our laps in the last moments of her life. We thought this time, we could gain another new life for her, but it wasn’t to be so.

She rapidly deteriorated, but she said her goodbyes and so did we. It’s hard making decisions in times like this, you know what is coming, you want to spend the last moments with your beloved friend, and yet you are divided. Shouldn’t she have some fluid put in her especially now that she can barely swallow without choking? So yesterday, one day after the 2007 Veterans Day, we brought her in her weakened state to the animal hospital to perhaps provide her some comfort, though at this point I should have heeded my intuition and suspicion that she was in her death throes when the body is in a state of shock, and pain has been mitigated. In fact, she meowed to us several times in a silent but reassuring way before we picked her up to go to the hospital, as to communicate that it was all right, you can let me complete my life here.

The doctor convinced us to let her stay for a few hours to be given a slow-drip IV while we decided whether to take her to a staffed emergency hospital about 30 miles away, though at this point it was clear that probably wouldn’t be the route to take, even the doctor had serious medical doubts about her survival that matched my own experience from prior deaths of pets, there are some obvious signs, this is true with both humans and animals. Though I had convinced myself that under no conditions would I leave the cat unattended in her last moments, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to let the hospital heat her up and rehydrate her, and we would be back soon. We could spend the evening with her as the final farewell process progressed. Plus I believe my own decision process was effected by lack of sleep from doing research on the Internet about cat illnesses late at night. When the doctor left the room and she was looking over his shoulder, she had perked up some what, and I knew she was saying goodbye to me. That was really important for me, because like I said before, I really wanted to be with her when she died. However, when away at a hospital, there would seem to be truth in saying that a cat is unencumbered by all the strings that attached it to this earth.

Emily, another cat we had, choose to die peacefully and naturally in a hospital. Emily was in an almost pleasant serene state before we took her, and we still kick ourselves for not just leaving her home. And so similarly ended the story of Lucy’s life, and the completion of a journey that Lucy the “feral cat” underwent as we all learned another meaning for love and sacrifice. Cats are good at the art of death, no matter how trivial or important they seemed to you during their lives, they are experts at closing the deal, and leave you with that deep feeling in your heart that their life and your life together were not inconsequential, but of a meaning deeper than life itself. That only amplifies that deep hard to describe feeling that your friend has left you forever, could you have said more, done more when she was alive? It’s about grieving, and cats can play with those strings inside you to produce a musical sound that goes beyond normal logic .. you then realize that she never really left, you left her, and it’s she who is waiting for you to come back from the dead.

Although you are in a box now, and I feel somehow trapped in that box with you, I realize you have risen from any earthly entrapments. Rest in peace, Lucy, you who were delivered from death more than once, and say hello to everyone, ornery Evelyn, bouncy Mocha, sedate Issac, and even sneezy Emily. Once more, I’ve been made to dig a hole in this hard and rocky West Virginian soil, though time may forget your physical presence, your spirit will forever be with us. Amen.