This is something that everybody hopes never they will have to write. Never should it have to be written so soon.
It had been many years since the death of my last cat in late '98. But being at last on my own and with no other responsibilities, I decided in early December 2012, that it was time once more. The story of how Kîa and Nimrod came to live here (and some of the problems I had
) can be read in the thread `The curious case of Nimrod and Kîa: raising two kittens from feral parents; possible mental problems?'. Whilst there is one mistake (I thought their mother was a semi-feral rescue, but she turned out to be a pet), the rest is accurate.
I expected they would have years and years of boundless happiness; that they would grow old together, content and never parted until the end; that the world would treat them gently.
Unfortunately, sometimes, the universe simply is not kind.
Just after ten in the morning, two days ago (Tuesday, the 21st of April, 2015), I left with my sister and brother-in-law to shop for a new dishwasher (having something of a sight problem, I'm unable to drive, and they live at some distance from here). Usually happy to spend her time outside with her brother when I was out, Kîa wanted this time to stay inside, curled up on my bed. She loved to settle there, and it was her place of safety if ever something frightened her (rare, as she was so intensely, supremely confident). Although she knew them a little, their distance means they were not often here, and she was just a little wary. Looking back, I'm glad; at least her last morning here was spent snuggled down in a place she loved, purring her little heart out.
She was asleep when I returned in the early afternoon, but woke and, after demanding a cuddle, she wanted out to play with Nimrod and roll in the front garden in the sun.
My sister and brother-in-law stayed until just after four, and as I was saying goodbye to them out the front, Kîa came from the garden to roll around in the driveway by my feet, purring and murmuring, and getting herself filthy-dirty. I stayed outside with her for a few minutes (she loved to be patted and ruffled while she rolled from side to side), then went inside.
And that was the last time I saw her. Tea-time came, and Nimrod came pushing at the wire door to be let in. But Kîa did not come home.
At first, I wasn't overly concerned, but as the evening drew on and still she didn't come calling softly at the door to be let in, I became increasingly uneasy. Waking at just after 2:40 next morning, I new for certain something was terribly wrong. Although Nimrod is known to vanish sometimes until early hours (being extremely timid of strangers, he will hide in one of a dozen places if he's outside and anybody other than me comes too near), Kîa was always supremely confident.
And now it's Thursday morning and I'm lying here on the bed, writing a farewell so many, many years too soon.
I know some of you will say that still there is time: that there is a good chance my little girl may just be lost, and, somehow, she will find her way home. But I know there is no hope, and she has taken her final journey.Kîa did not stray; if she could, she would have found her way back. Nimrod has been out for hour after hour, searching for her; I let him go, in the hope that he might find her and guide her home. But it is simply too far; her little paws are too small; they can't carry her back across the Bridge. And she will be crying, and alone, and will not understand why she is lost, and why we do not come to find her and save her from the cold.
It was too soon, my little, wild huntress; you had still so many years of life to live. Still so many summer days perched high by the sitting-room window in your tree, watching the world you loved; still so many winter nights cuddled with your brother or curled on the bed. Still so many things to chase, so many purrs to purr, so much love to give.
You were too good for this cruel, uncaring world, my little, tortoiseshell girl; too great; too giving; too kind. And now the warm, soft bed you loved lies cold, your brother is pining, and the house is too empty; too quiet. The boundless life and joy you brought has gone for ever, so many days too soon, and we are alone.
Rest well, little huntress. Don't cry; sleep gently; run free. If I could, I would find you and bring you home; I know you will be waiting, sure that somehow we will come to find you and lead you back. You should be here, little girl, safe and warm where you belong; you should not have had to leave so soon. But the veil is too great; the Bridge too wide; the way too far.
Wait, little Kîa: my little, wild lady; run and play, and roll in the sun. And one day, when you least expect to see, you will hear the tinkle of your brother's bell; feel his call; see him as he comes racing across the Bridge, to play and run and be once more at your side.
And if there is any justice, any kindness in the world, I will find you again, and you can rest, and purr.
Farewell, my little one; my Kîa, and forgive me for not beingwith you at the end when you needed me, and for being unable to bring you home. I promised myself always that you would not die alone, and that you would go gently with me there; if only it was a promise I could have kept. Rest now, little Kîa. You shall never be forgotten.
Song for Kîa's farewell: Agnetha FÃltskog - A (2013), track 6: Past Forever. It should have been played at her end many years from now, after a full and happy life.
It had been many years since the death of my last cat in late '98. But being at last on my own and with no other responsibilities, I decided in early December 2012, that it was time once more. The story of how Kîa and Nimrod came to live here (and some of the problems I had
) can be read in the thread `The curious case of Nimrod and Kîa: raising two kittens from feral parents; possible mental problems?'. Whilst there is one mistake (I thought their mother was a semi-feral rescue, but she turned out to be a pet), the rest is accurate.I expected they would have years and years of boundless happiness; that they would grow old together, content and never parted until the end; that the world would treat them gently.
Unfortunately, sometimes, the universe simply is not kind.
Just after ten in the morning, two days ago (Tuesday, the 21st of April, 2015), I left with my sister and brother-in-law to shop for a new dishwasher (having something of a sight problem, I'm unable to drive, and they live at some distance from here). Usually happy to spend her time outside with her brother when I was out, Kîa wanted this time to stay inside, curled up on my bed. She loved to settle there, and it was her place of safety if ever something frightened her (rare, as she was so intensely, supremely confident). Although she knew them a little, their distance means they were not often here, and she was just a little wary. Looking back, I'm glad; at least her last morning here was spent snuggled down in a place she loved, purring her little heart out.
She was asleep when I returned in the early afternoon, but woke and, after demanding a cuddle, she wanted out to play with Nimrod and roll in the front garden in the sun.
My sister and brother-in-law stayed until just after four, and as I was saying goodbye to them out the front, Kîa came from the garden to roll around in the driveway by my feet, purring and murmuring, and getting herself filthy-dirty.
I stayed outside with her for a few minutes (she loved to be patted and ruffled while she rolled from side to side), then went inside.And that was the last time I saw her. Tea-time came, and Nimrod came pushing at the wire door to be let in. But Kîa did not come home.
At first, I wasn't overly concerned, but as the evening drew on and still she didn't come calling softly at the door to be let in, I became increasingly uneasy. Waking at just after 2:40 next morning, I new for certain something was terribly wrong. Although Nimrod is known to vanish sometimes until early hours (being extremely timid of strangers, he will hide in one of a dozen places if he's outside and anybody other than me comes too near), Kîa was always supremely confident.
And now it's Thursday morning and I'm lying here on the bed, writing a farewell so many, many years too soon.
I know some of you will say that still there is time: that there is a good chance my little girl may just be lost, and, somehow, she will find her way home. But I know there is no hope, and she has taken her final journey.Kîa did not stray; if she could, she would have found her way back. Nimrod has been out for hour after hour, searching for her; I let him go, in the hope that he might find her and guide her home. But it is simply too far; her little paws are too small; they can't carry her back across the Bridge. And she will be crying, and alone, and will not understand why she is lost, and why we do not come to find her and save her from the cold.
It was too soon, my little, wild huntress; you had still so many years of life to live. Still so many summer days perched high by the sitting-room window in your tree, watching the world you loved; still so many winter nights cuddled with your brother or curled on the bed. Still so many things to chase, so many purrs to purr, so much love to give.
You were too good for this cruel, uncaring world, my little, tortoiseshell girl; too great; too giving; too kind. And now the warm, soft bed you loved lies cold, your brother is pining, and the house is too empty; too quiet. The boundless life and joy you brought has gone for ever, so many days too soon, and we are alone.
Rest well, little huntress. Don't cry; sleep gently; run free. If I could, I would find you and bring you home; I know you will be waiting, sure that somehow we will come to find you and lead you back. You should be here, little girl, safe and warm where you belong; you should not have had to leave so soon. But the veil is too great; the Bridge too wide; the way too far.
Wait, little Kîa: my little, wild lady; run and play, and roll in the sun. And one day, when you least expect to see, you will hear the tinkle of your brother's bell; feel his call; see him as he comes racing across the Bridge, to play and run and be once more at your side.
And if there is any justice, any kindness in the world, I will find you again, and you can rest, and purr.
Farewell, my little one; my Kîa, and forgive me for not beingwith you at the end when you needed me, and for being unable to bring you home. I promised myself always that you would not die alone, and that you would go gently with me there; if only it was a promise I could have kept. Rest now, little Kîa. You shall never be forgotten.
Song for Kîa's farewell: Agnetha FÃltskog - A (2013), track 6: Past Forever. It should have been played at her end many years from now, after a full and happy life.
:cross: that she finds her way home or your neighbors discover her.
It's awful when they disappear like this. I'm still holding out hope for you and little Kia. All fingers, paws and even hooves are crossed here for you and your furry family 
