Through it all, the cat remains...unperturbed

 This is actually how she sleeps sometimes

The Zen Cat--who knew?

 Or the Yoga Master Cat...doing a pose called Circular Cat.

Lucy has departed and all we are left with, to paraphrase Walt Disney, is That Darn Cat.  A cat is what it is, and you have to understand that when you get one, but one thing it is not is a dog.   If Bella has noticed that she is now alone with us, she hasn't let on. She continues to rule with an iron paw. The aloofness, a stereotypical cat attribute which Bella takes to absurd lengths, heightens the pain of Lucy's absence.  But what can you do?--she is so darn pretty.

See?

 Here she is hiding behind some Christmas decorations--on the table--because she was afraid of something. That should probably have said "everything." 

There is no man, woman, or child, or situation of any kind, that Bella isn't afraid of, even (especially?) us. 

 

Often we wish we knew what was going on in that little head, but, sadly, it's a guess.

Here are some options:

(and now for one of my favorites...that says it all for the dog/cat duality)

The Dog’s Diary 

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

The Cat’s Diary

Day 3,983 of My Captivity....

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...

Lucy Has Left Us

 

Lucy is gone, another victim in the long line of cancer sufferers who were not fortunate enough to hang on. She had been a trooper for well over a year, as the tumor limited her breathing and eating, and as it swelled and distorted her face. She was still beautiful to us. She slowly gave up the things she loved the most, beginning with her walks, then her treats, then finally, yesterday, food itself.  She was taking pills 5 times a day, sometimes more, to keep the poisonous beast at bay. Until yesterday.  By last night and this morning, she was a shell of her former magnificence, and lay quietly on the floor or in the grass outside. And yet, if we approached, she would try to wag and get up to greet us. And then move away tired again and wanting to be alone. Her final gift to us was a sign that it was time--she stopped eating and just lay around.  And we decided to relieve her suffering.

The doctors were very caring, and she was her usual sweet self during the process. And so at peace at the end. We are devastated, wandering around trying to reconcile the loving gift of release we gave her with the huge hole she left in our hearts. Fortunately, I believe (as should we all because not to is too painful and illogical) that death is not the end of all, but a change of form, and that I will see my precious baby once again. Someday. And then we both will know "the Secret." 

 

This is Lucy's obituary, in pictures.  A memorial to her cuteness. 

 

We are ineffably sad, but also grateful we had so many years with her. Goodbye, sweet loving creature.