Loss of LiLa. Gaining a Friend.

I've wanted to write about this for a while. However, I am just now able to sit down and write about it without crying into the keyboard… (Also, we are having technical difficulties with posting pictures. Once we figure it out, I will post pictures.)

Memorial Day night LiLa (lee-lah), our tuxedo cat, was outside. I called her to come in, but she did not want to. Since we had been staying with my mom and dad in the country, LiLa got her first taste of outdoor, country life. She was lovin' it, almost to the point of being crazed. So much to smell. So many lizards and birds and moles and shrews to stalk (Oh, my!). My folks have 20 acres. The back of their house faces woods, probably an acre or two of surrounding woods, which has a small hill, almost a drop off that then faces a fork in the road. I let LiLa stay outside that night because we believe in letting them choose where they want to be, and I believe that cats have a fuller life if they are able to enjoy the outdoors, if they want too. (Tilly, our blue-eyed baby, is most definitely a house cat, and has made her choice very clear. She is completely motivated by comfort.) Tuesday morning I called for LiLa. She did not come, which was totally unlike her. She has always been motivated by her stomach and always knew a treat of some sort was waiting for her. We called and called. Nothing. Wednesday, nothing. Thursday evening Brandon and I knew we had to go look for her. My fear was that someone had picked up my baby and took her home with them. I could not stand the thought of someone else taking care of her!! Then there was the fear that she was dead. She grew up in Winona Lake, in town. I had been letting her in and out since she was little. She never veered into the road or went missing. Now here we were in the country. Surely to goodness she was street wary.

On Tuesday, the very day LiLa went missing, a grey Persian mix showed up. The grey cat was an emaciated, skin 'n bones, flea and tick infested, dirty mess. Thursday evening when we headed down the long, gravel driveway, hand in hand, the grey Persian followed us, every single step of the way. We walked down the curvy road calling and looking. I did not want to look in the ditches. I was afraid. (Ok, so I THOUGHT I could write this without tearing up… ) The grey cat followed us, close to us. She tried to meow, but could only offer strained, faint whispers of encouragement.

Brandon found LiLa. She was in a ditch, dead. She had been hit by a car.

(Note to self: Never write about your beloved dead kitty when you are PMSing. Now the computer is wet, and the water works probably won't stop all today. Good thing I am not posting pictures today… I'd be even more of a mess!!)

We then walked back up to mom and dad's house. The grey cat was obviously exhausted, and physically drawn. In tears, I picked up her nasty little body and explained to her that the Wilhites do not leave a man, nor cat, behind. Once at the house, Brandon grabbed a plastic bag. We walked back to LiLa's body, Brandon scooped her up, and we headed back home again. We dug a small oblong whole, and placed her body gently in the ground. The worst part was putting the dirt over her. It just seemed so incredibly wrong to put dirt on her and cover her up in the ground. But we did. Both of us cryin' and slingin' snot. Once she was covered up, we prayed out loud, believing God that she is with Him. This thought might sound silly to some, and use to sound silly to me, but not anymore.

We planted a pink rose bush at the head of her grave, and wildflowers over the freshly disturbed earth. She was our wild child. Such a sweet cat. She was our companion. Our friend. Our baby. Neither of us had ever lost our very own pet before. We've had family pets die, but none that we were especially close to. We learned through all of this that grief for a pet, our furry companion is very real.

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Brandon and I both felt that the presence of the grey Persian was uncanny, even divine. She showed up just when we needed her most. She found us. And, you can probably guess, we adopted her. We believe that she is a gift from God. He sent her to us because she needed a loving home, and we needed help with our grief and loss. We call her Mareth. It sounds much like it looks. Mare, like a female horse, and eth. (This pronunciation specificity comes from my linguistic geekness.) We call her Mareth Dale Ohana. Yes, that's quite the long name for an orphan kitten, which we now believe she is a kitten. For awhile there we thought she might be an old cat, but we think that because she was so emaciated, dehydrated, starved, dirty, etc., that those things caused her to seem old. Tilly's full name is Lazara Chantilly Lace. Lazara, because she nearly died. She was 10 days old when we found her, and had to feed her a bottle; 3 a.m. feeding and constant care for about 2 or 3 months. And Chantilly Lace, because Brandon use to sing that song to me… So, we have Tilly. Mareth's name comes from: 1. Mareth is the name of a fictional character in a book called The First King of Shannara, by Terry Brooks. Mareth was an orphan who had very strong magical powers, but did not know how to use them properly. She sought out the tutelage of Breman, a wise Druid who taught her the ways of the Force, er that is, how to use her magic. Of course (spoiler), in the end, she learned out to use her magic properly, found a soul mate, married, and lived happily ever after. 2. Our good friend Dale has no teeth. Mareth is missing several of her front teeth, which we believe to be the result of poor nutrition, dehydration, and starvation. When I saw her lack of teeth, I thought of Dale immediately. Dale also told us that all of his animal companions found him. Since Mareth found us, we thought that naming her Dale was appropriate. 3. And, Ohana means "family" in Polynesian, or Hawaiian, just watch the Disney movie, Lilo and Stitch. And now, Mareth has family. She's been to the vet, had all her shots, and is fattening up. She is uber-affectionate and cuddly. Tilly has been really upset by her, of course. I think Tilly has had a hard time, period. From the move, new places, noises, smells, to the fact that her sister is not here. If LiLa were here, I think Tilly may have had an easier time of adjusting, possibly.

I know that some of you are probably thinking, "Well, this woman does not have kids yet, so her maternal instincts are forced upon these cats. One day she'll have kids and forget about her cats." I have thought about this. Seriously, I have. And, YES my kids will be priority, but I really want to make time for our animals. Seriously. We want more critters, dogs too. I'd like to have maybe two more cats or so, and a couple dogs… and 4 or 5 kids… Yes, I am completely comfortable being totally out of my mind!! Our cats have been an odd therapy for me, like a calming, zen-type effect. When they sit on me, or climb on me, it makes me want to take a moment and be calm, pet them and enjoy the moment of just sitting there, having interaction with an animal, my animal, my very own, my precious… Ok, that's bizarre, but you know what I mean.

I should probably end this blog. I have had all of this, and much, much more swimming around in my head for a while. I'll blog more about Mareth later. And still to come: Living Life Under The Bed, Smokin' It The Wilhite Way, and much, much more!!