A dear friend to animals and reader of our blog sent us a deeply moving letter yesterday about her kitty, Farina. We asked if we could publish it for all of our readers because it is poetic and touched us deeply.
“Farina is on her way to another plane. She is going the same way the Valentine tulips did: dropping petal by petal. In a silent recognition of purpose realized. We never saw the petals detach, they just appeared on the floor parted from the stem. Adding water did not keep the petals attached, and Farina is eschewing food and drink. Has been for the past two days, and shows no interest in accepting any. Some instinct directs her to walk very slowly and deliberately to a bowl of camellias on the breakfast table, but she just places her head near it and does not drink.
“John thinks her surname is Franco, and that she may rally once more. I just scratch her head and brush her back, being careful of the bloated belly, and miss the deep gregarious purr that always accented her great enjoyment of these loves. She no longer purrs, or stretches, or hisses at the others….she just sits and waits for whatever is to come.
“I remember what she has done: the years of habitual and demanding nursing, which involved finding a bit of looseness in an arm, or belly or leg and licking it until she became ecstatic. If there was no flesh available, anything would suffice: fabric, shoe, pillow, sofa; everything we own and everyone was suckled by Farina. Perhaps it was due to her pre-weaned arrival in our house, perhaps to lacking any other means of expressing her great pleasure at being here. She spent a good deal of her years being disgruntled at other animals, and was a great hisser and slapper. Farina loved toys and played hard until the last month or so. She made us creatures of her habits, and woke us without fail by 7, sat by the toilet to be scratched, directed us to enrobing, and pointed the way (loudly) to the door outside. 30 minutes out and then in to find a spot of sun before Cam wakes up….maybe letting Sarah know who was here first with a walking hiss. She likes Bean, as she liked Stevie….maybe a black thing!
“The last few days have been somehow holy, or at least sacred. She wants to rest, but not sleep. We are glad to be assured that nothing painful is happening to her, and that her process is beyond our control. we keep her warm and connected to us, and the animals steer clear of her. She has taken over Sarah’s bed without dispute.
“I do not expect to see a rainbow bridge for Farina ( I just cannot be that maudlin about death) but I do see a lot to celebrate in our 18 year friendship as it comes to an end.
“If she rallies, I will let you know……”
Farewell, Farina. You were well loved.