March 27, 2012 will be the two-year anniversary of the death of my 20-year-old cat, Coco. She was originally my mom's cat, but because mine as well. Coco was jet black, except for a white spot on her chest and a few white hairs here and there on her feet. She was very slender, and named after French designer Coco Chanel, who invented the little black dress.
Coco came into our lives when she was 13. She and her buddy were abandoned by their previous owner. He moved away, and left them behind. Those two sat on the porch of the house for months, waiting for him to come home. Even when it rained, there they sat. One day, Coco's buddy was killed by a dog. A neighbor buried him in her yard.
Now Coco was alone. But she still sat, now on the lawn, waiting for her owner to come home. My mom started feeding her, but felt so bad, watching this cat waiting for an owner who'd never be back, that she took her in.
Coco was a very affectionate cat who liked nothing more than to curl up with us when we were reading, sleeping or watching T.V. She'd give a little "prrrtt" to signal that she was about to jump on a lap, the bed or the couch, and there she was.
When my mother decide to move, renting a room from a friend, Coco started to go downhill fast. Within a week, she was dead -- euthanized by the vet. I knew why. Coco smelled my mom's friend's dogs, and after losing her buddy to a canine, she was not about to move in a house with dogs. She went from healthy to dead because she had decided she wasn't going to go to her new home. She started saying good-bye, giving us extra attention. Then, three days before she died, her breathing became labored, she was listless and refused to eat. Finally, on the day my mom moved out, Coco died.
She was cremated, and her ashes are now in a beautiful wooden box with her name and dates of birth and death. The vet, too, thought Coco decided to leave this earth because she didn't want to be with dogs again.
Rest in peace, Coco. You brought us a lot of love and laugh.
Coco came into our lives when she was 13. She and her buddy were abandoned by their previous owner. He moved away, and left them behind. Those two sat on the porch of the house for months, waiting for him to come home. Even when it rained, there they sat. One day, Coco's buddy was killed by a dog. A neighbor buried him in her yard.
Now Coco was alone. But she still sat, now on the lawn, waiting for her owner to come home. My mom started feeding her, but felt so bad, watching this cat waiting for an owner who'd never be back, that she took her in.
Coco was a very affectionate cat who liked nothing more than to curl up with us when we were reading, sleeping or watching T.V. She'd give a little "prrrtt" to signal that she was about to jump on a lap, the bed or the couch, and there she was.
When my mother decide to move, renting a room from a friend, Coco started to go downhill fast. Within a week, she was dead -- euthanized by the vet. I knew why. Coco smelled my mom's friend's dogs, and after losing her buddy to a canine, she was not about to move in a house with dogs. She went from healthy to dead because she had decided she wasn't going to go to her new home. She started saying good-bye, giving us extra attention. Then, three days before she died, her breathing became labored, she was listless and refused to eat. Finally, on the day my mom moved out, Coco died.
She was cremated, and her ashes are now in a beautiful wooden box with her name and dates of birth and death. The vet, too, thought Coco decided to leave this earth because she didn't want to be with dogs again.
Rest in peace, Coco. You brought us a lot of love and laugh.
