Today I lost my closest friend. Gilda Lorraine Bryan was my “heart” cat. She was always with me – constantly. She followed me from room to room talking about the day’s events. She tattled on the other cats when they were naughty. She wanted to discuss things she saw on TV. She was constantly in my arms, sleeping on my back or trying valiantly to get me to pick her up. We had long, meaningful discussions. She was my constant companion. Now, I feel like a huge part of my being is missing. Gilda came to me via a friend in rescue. She had been dumped at a vet’s office and from the note that was left with her, I believe that she was purchased from a breeder for a child who was terminal. The child died, the child’s parents didn’t want the cat and she was too rambunctious for the grandparents, so they dumped her at the vet clinic. She was obviously the product of a kitten mill because she has serious confinement issues. She couldn’t stand to be contained in any way. She always wanted to be on the other side of a door – it didn’t matter that it was a cabinet door, the bathroom door or the door to the bedroom. Once she got on the other side, she wanted to come right back to her starting point. She constantly had to prove to herself that she was not restrained. The first time I saw her, my rescue friend had her in a carrier. She was biting everybody. And, I mean EVERYBODY! Even these “cat people” didn’t know what to do with her. She convinced me to see what I could do. I took her home, put her in a room and she was winding around my ankles before I knew it. She wasn’t confined any longer . . . and she was happy! Gilda was as comedienne at heart – that’s why I named her after Gilda Radner. She would sometimes just pull stunts to make me laugh. She seemed to know when I needed something cheerful. You know that typical Siamese voice? Well, magnify it 100 times and that was Gilda’s voice. Some would have found it annoying, but it was very endearing to me. I loved it. Gilda had a boyfriend. His name was Grayson. Grayson was also a wedgehead Siamese, but he was a blue point. A year and 20 days ago, we lost Grayson to stomach cancer. When I explained to her that morning that Grayson wasn’t coming back, I saw real tears in her eyes. She understood what I was telling her and she was devastated. It was the first time I’ve ever seen a cat cry, but it was real. I made her promise that she wouldn’t leave me and that she and I would be a 2-person team from now on. She tried, she really did. But Lymphoma made her break her promise. After trying everything humanly possible to save her life, I had to let her go. I couldn’t let her suffer any more. Now, Grayson is back with Gilda. I’m sure that they are snuggling and grooming each other and totally delighted to be back together. She is running and playing and acting silly with all the other cats waiting for me at The Rainbow Bridge. I know that the animals are God’s way of loving us . . . and I know they are only on loan. He wants them back because they are His creatures. I know that we will all be together again. But until that time, there’s a huge hole in my heart. I don’t think it will ever heal!
Posted on: Tue, 25 Nov 2014 01:39:27 +0000
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