1979 - 1999

Sweetheart was my first cat in my adulthood.  My then nine year old daughter found her near our home that fateful day in 1979--she was tiny, frightened and had a severe eye injury.  We took her to a vet, who performed surgery on the eye, saying the injury may have been caused by another cat or dog.  No guarantee was made in regard to her sight in that eye, although he did say there might be partial vision.  Throughout her life, we never really knew for sure how much vision she had.      I brought the white and black kitten back to her new home.  Chrissie, my daughter, promptly named her Sweetheart, which we eventually learned would be quite a misnomer.  Sweetheart was a tiny, feisty, scrawny bundle of fur who would one day grow into an older, feisty small-statured cat.      Up until she had her first and only litter of three beautiful black and white kittens, she remained outside because of my then-husband who didn't like cats.  Motherhood seemed to mellow her some, and my husband relented and allowed her and the kittens inside the house.  After I found homes for the kittens, Sweetheart was from then on an indoor-outdoor kitty.      In 1989, when she was 10 years old, I moved in with my now-husband, Rodger, and brought Sweetheart as well as several other cats who had adopted me.  She adjusted well to the move, but within a few years afterwards, it was apparent that she preferred staying indoors--and because of her advancing age, we decided to honor her decision.      So it was that Sweetheart became the Catriarch of the household - hissing and arching her back whenever any of the other cats approached.  Pookie, who came along in 1991,  particularly loved to come near her - teasing her and trying to intimidate her--but it never happened.  Sweetheart was the only cat who could ever cause Pookie to scurry away.      In late summer of 1999 on a Friday afternoon, Rodger stopped to pick up the occasional treat of fried fish for her; normally when the fish was placed under her nose, she would immediately wake up and pounce on her tidbits.  This time it didn't happen--she did not wake up - she was in a seemingly comatose state.  We checked on her throughout the night and saw no improvement.  By the next morning we were getting ready to take her to the vet.  Rodger walked into the kitchen to get coffee and casually remarked, "Hi Sweetie, how are you doing?" as she stood by the water bowl, drinking away.  Talk about double-take - Rodger suddenly realized what he was seeing and excitedly called out to me.  So, it was a joyous occasion as we celebrated having our Sweetheart back.      In September 1999, she had a swelling between her eyes--a biopsy done at the vet's clinic revealed a malignant tumor.  We were told that even if she were a younger cat, the prognosis would still be grim and surgery would not be an option.  We were able to take her home and keep her for another six weeks.   We treasured those last days with her - she slept most of the day, except for lunchtime when she would beg at the table for little handouts from Rodger.  When I returned from work, she would nibble on whatever I could get her to eat -- she had quit eating cat food, so what was once an occasional treat of KFC or deli turkey meat, had instead become her meals.  In the evening, as I clicked away on the computer, she would slowly trot down the hallway, searching for me so she could have her "lap."  I would then get one of the 'cat towels,' place it on my lap as I sat on the sofa and Sweetheart would come up to me, patiently waiting to be picked up.  For the rest of the evening, she would either nap or bathe herself or just lay there contentedly.      On the Sunday morning of November 19, 1999, it was obvious that she could not get up anymore.  She could only lift her little head to look at us.  The moment I had been dreading was here.  I had always been afraid that I wouldn't know when it was time.  Trust me - you know.  That was our last day with her.  Our vet helped her with her journey to the Rainbow Bridge.  I envision Sweetheart at the Bridge, assuming her rightful, stately position as the Catriarch.      Sweetheart was with me for 20 years--through my daughter's childhood, through my divorce, through my happy remarriage.....she was a big part of my life.  And I miss her so much....