Bluebell
Bluebell was an Oriental Short Hair cat, named for the colour of her coat, even though she looked grey to me. Her huge, triangular ears were what everyone noticed first. "Is that a little kangaroo?", our kids' friends asked when they were little. Even though cats of her type normally have long, slim bodies, hers included a cute yet sizable stomach thanks to her love of good, frequent meals and constant desire for cat treats.
When she was young, she was playful, clever, and just a touch mischievous. No matter how fancy or ingenious the cat toy you bought for her, she'd give it a sniff and return to playing with everyday objects like hair ties. There used to be hundreds of hair ties under every surface of our home. She was always a fan of long naps, and was an expert at finding the softest surface in the house. She was wary of strangers and hid whenever anyone came over, but always knew exactly which select people were trustworthy enough for her to re-emerge.
She loved and trusted her family--my wife and two kids especially. I don't blame her--I was the one to take her to the vet, so every time I approached she was wondering if today was that one day of the year. Even though she would fiercely and sometimes viciously defend herself if any stranger (and sometimes I) dared to try to touch her, I was always astounded to witness my other three family members kissing her face, their eyes easily within swatting distance. She had a high bar, but once you were over it, you really were in for good.
While she was an indoor cat who had never stepped a paw outside, a few years ago it suddenly occurred to her that the outdoors might be lovely. After long sessions of peering out the window at the backyard, she cautiously stepped out onto the porch and basked in the sun. Wow, did that feel good. Next thing you knew, she was adventurously exploring the yard, sitting in random places, smelling the plants. A lovely new summer routine until another new idea occurred to her--maybe the yard isn't the entire rest of the world! Off she ran towards the street as fast as her swinging stomach would allow, and thank goodness we caught her in time. Her backyard time was limited after that, but I'm glad she experienced a little more of the world.
A number of years ago she stopped jumping thanks to early arthritis. It didn't seem to bother her much; she learned to climb up furniture like Spiderman on the side of a building. In the past year she started coughing and it turns out she had cat asthma, a thing I previously did not know existed. A cat puffer (yes, there are such things too) was not her favourite, but she tolerated it, and it helped a little.
While we hoped she would have lived with these ailments for some time, in the past month her stomach disappeared as she rapidly lost weight, not a good sign. Liver cancer. Nothing to be done. And so, at home today, she peacefully and painlessly drifted away.
Twelve years is a long time, but time with any pet is never long enough. She demanded and accepted love every day, and returned it in her own cat-like way. She showed us how to enjoy a good, simple life, never far from a soft blanket, your family, a good meal, or a long nap. And boy did she make us laugh.
Every morning, I'm the first one to come downstairs, and almost always find Bluebell napping on the couch. With coffee and novel in hand, I always lie down at the far end of the couch, trying not to disturb her. And yet, no matter how careful I am, she always jumps down, walks away, and takes the opportunity to have breakfast. Fair enough. This morning, her last morning, I took my position on the couch, and she snuggled right in. She finally let me over that high bar too, just in time.
Goodbye, Bluebell. You were one of a kind, and an important part of our family, quirks and all. You certainly made an impression on us and everyone who met you. We'll miss you.
