Patsy

Patsy was my sweet little innocent tragedy. Fearless and bold but delicate. Isadora convinced me that I needed a cat. I think she wanted to domesticate me. If you have a pet that you need to take care of you can't venture very far. Maybe she recognized me as a hermit and wanted to give me a companion. Isadora is Italian and Italian's are not allowed to leave their homes until they are married.

We went to the SPCA and Patsy was the perfect one. Calm. She had long soft white hair with a dark lavendar mask like a superhero.

She refused to eat and I brought her back to the SPCA to fix her. They thought I was dropping her off and taking off. I gave them $100 to show my sincerity.

We lived together in harmony in my basement apartment during the cold winters in the hood. I owed $27,000 in back taxes and was paying it off in large sums. I had no money for living. My apartment was $275 a month in the basement on a street that was notorious for hookers and drugs. The hookers were haggled and out of shape. Yet night after night, people picked them up. The main bus stop on the street was right in front of my apartment. On several occasions, I stepped out of the shower to find a group of people staring at me through the window. I sing in the shower. I like to leave my blinds open at night.

One day, one of my work friends brought over a cat from the father of a friend of ours. Networks. Rupert was a huge orange cat. However, Rupert had one flaw. The smell of his poop was unbelievable. It would fill the entire apartment in a matter of minutes. I had to change the litter immediately after a deposit. Each time I returned home from work, I would be hit with a wall of smell. The smell was poop and mucus fermented for 7 months in vinegar. Your knees would get weak when the smell hit you.

Patsy wasn't thrilled. Rupert shit in the litter the minute I changed it. If he didn't have to shit then he sat in it until he did. If Patsy was on the window ledge then Rupert needed to be on the window ledge. Patsy put up a bold fight but Rupert would just push her off.

Patsy would sit on my pillow right above my head at night and pur. Rupert would sit on top of me and fart.

Upon announcing that I was moving South, the friend returned to take Rupert back. I actually put up a fight.

Patsy's fur was light, long and fluffy. Her poop used to get entangled in it on the way down. She would plop her butt on the floor and then drag her self across the floor with her front paws.

She used to sit at the window during horrible thunderstorms. She feared nothing.

All cats always let her eat first.

She walked around on her tip toes.

Princess and Patsy were each other's best friends but they wouldn't admit it. Isadora brought them down South while she was finishing her Master's. My mother complained that I was being a hermit. She brought me companions. Each night, while I studied for my certification the two cats would alternate coming into the bedroom and sitting on my lap. Princess slept with me for half the night and Patsy slept for the other half. Princess slept at the foot of the bed. Patsy slept on the pillow. Each night, I found them sleeping on the bed together when I returned from work.

We lived on the third floor of the apartment. Patsy would walk on the other side of the railing. I couldn't watch. When she started showing off, I went inside. One day, I walked up to get her. She was focused on me. She knew I was coming to get her because I was scared. She loved it. The sprinklers went off. Patsy jumped and fell off the ledge. I screamed. She spread all four legs out and....drifted down. It was amazing. The bushes broke her fall and as I was running downstairs, she was running up the stairs. She started limping. We jumped into the car and went to the animal emergency clinic. Her internal organs were probably destroyed. They XRayed her. Her pinky was broken and her bowels were full of shit. They put a giant cast on her front left leg that was significantly longer than her right leg. They injected water under her skin to rehydrate her and hopefully unclog her.

At first she lay on the floor depressed because the cast made it difficult to walk. Then she learned to stick it out to the side and run on her other three legs. Then she learned that it was a great way to get attention by knocking on the door or hitting you in the head when she was hungry.

One day, while walking her back legs gave out. She continued to walk and her legs gave out again. I felt sick. I took her to the doctors on Friday before Memorial weekend. He told me it might be a heart problem. The next day she began vomitting blood. We took her to the emergency clinic wiith the intention of putting her to sleep. The doctor told us that she had diabetes and that they could save her by getting her regulated on insulin. We sighed. The next day we returned and her condition was the same. We left her for another day. They told us to take her to her regular vets to continue. We did. The vet took her home that night to continue treatment. The next day, he called us up to tell us that she had developed jaundice and that her kidneys were probably failing.

I drove home to pick up Isadora. We drove to the vets. They brought her out in soft blanket. My poor baby. I petted her head while they injected her. She coughed. Her eyes went wide and blank. Her pulse was gone. I kissed her head. Bye bye baby. Daddy loves you. You were my first.

I filled out the paper work to get her cremated. Her vase sits on our book shelf. She was my perfect pet. Calm.