the problem with having a blog

The problem with having a blog - especially a blog you've had for six years that is almost exclusively about all the happenings in family life - is I have to write about all the happenings in family life.  After all, this is my only - and I do mean only - record that the last six years have happened.  So, when something sad happens, like when our cat dies (our cat died), I feel I must include it in my only record of life-happenings - this blog.  I can certainly blame the busyness of summer for my delinquent blogging.  But in reality, I've just been putting off writing about the thing that happened after the last post that needs to be included in my record.

We adopted Rocky on my birthday the year we got married.  She was six.  The shelter was a no-kill shelter that required us to sign this contract that they had no way of enforcing, but we are odd people who feel a sense of obligation to abide by contracts.  The contract stated we would not de-claw the cat we adopted, so we specifically picked one that had already been de-clawed.  I was drawn to a cat sitting by herself in a little room set up as the office.  She was de-clawed.  Check.  She was spayed.  Bonus. The volunteer remarked, "That cat?  Well...she's....special," and then attempted to lure me to a "playroom" with cats of every hue.  I wasn't biting.  She let me in the little room, and "Bo" dove under the desk and back in a corner where she could not be touched.  That did not deter me.  On her little "info" sheet, it clearly stated she did not play well with other cats, dogs, or kids.  But I was set on her, and I think we were too newly married for Bryan to object.  The volunteer coerced her into our pet taxi, we signed our contract, paid our fee, and went on our way.

At home, we opened the pet taxi door and "Bo", who on the drive home was decided would be "Rocky", promptly hid under the guest room bed.  The next day, Rocky was still under the bed when the shelter called.  A staff member apologized that the volunteer had allowed us to adopt "Bo", as she had a history of biting, and offered to accept her back for a full refund.  "No, no, we're happy with her.  Thanks, though," I responded. 

We knew Rocky was coming out from under the bed because we were filling her food dish and cleaning her litter box, but didn't see much of her for a few weeks.  Then, she started to come out to the living room when we were watching TV and sit on the floor near us.  I dared to pet her, and she bit me.  I dared to pet her again, and she didn't.  After a month or two, one night when we were in bed, she jumped up and parked herself on my legs.  And that was that.  Except when it was hot and she would retreat to the cool basement, she has slept right between my knees for the last 10 years. 

Soon, Bryan was also in her tiny circle of people she could trust.  But whenever we would have guests in our home, she would go back into hiding.  With her, more pets were definitely out of the question, but she was not going to stop us from bringing children into our family.  Fortunately, her response was mostly ambivalence.  But as the babies became mobile and aware of her, she would spend her days where the kids were not, and I would barely have the last to bed when she would be at my heals, ready to sit on my lap in front of the TV.  The boys tend to be too rowdy for Rocky.  And, yes, they have pulled her hair or tail or used her as a target with their rocket-shooter - with deserved natural consequence.  But in the last year, Lydia began to understand and respect Rocky's need for relationships on her terms, and Rocky allowed Lydia in her little circle of people she trusted.  Rocky would linger in her room when Lydia played quietly or napped, would even seek out affection from her.

The last couple months, Rocky lost her pep.  We were finding messes on the floor, where that had never been an issue before.  And so when we got home from "Meet Your Seat" and Bryan called me away from the children, I knew instantly.

Some people don't think much of animals.  But in our world, they are companions.  Friends.  Family.  We may have signed a contract, but we had made a commitment to Rocky -a life-long commitment.  She taught us about building trust and the healing nature of relationships.  She was a present support through life's sad times.  Losing her has meant losing a companion.  A friend.  A family member.

And, yes, a bed partner.