It’s natural to forget details about people, places, and things that are in the past. I was recently hiking with a college friend and she mentioned a school break where she and a few friends came home with me. I remember bringing them to an empty beach in the middle of a cold month, making sure my mom understood that one of my friends was vegetarian, and enjoying general extended sleepover vibes. My friend clearly remembers watching a movie that is still one of her favorites, but I couldn’t pull up that memory to save my life. I trust that it happened and I’m sad that I’ve lost those moments.
I accept that there are memories about Sadie that I’ve already lost. Some of the pictures help me reclaim certain moments, but pictures don’t capture how soft she felt or what she smelled like. I used to say that she smelled like coconut soy and I stick by that. I loved bundling her up into my arms and taking a deep breath. Maybe she didn’t actually smell like anything other than a cat. My other cats mostly smell like cat spit and Penelope almost always smells like dirt.
Sadie’s fur was really soft and warm and welcoming. She loved cuddling up on your chest and laying her head right on your shoulder or under your chin. The latter wasn’t the most comfortable, but as everyone knows, once a cat is settled on you, it’s against the law to move. When we adopted our rabbit Emilius, we promised our friends who rescued him that he’d be a free-roaming bunny. We rabbit-proofed our kitchen, family room, and living room areas and set up a baby gate to block off the hallway to the bedrooms and office. A year (maybe less) after he joined our family, Sadie’s joints weren’t up for jumping over the gate anymore. We’d carry her into bed with us and get up to open the gate whenever she needed, until we finally set up a litter box in the office. Soon after, she’d ask to be let out almost right away and it seemed like she preferred the couch. I felt bad letting her sleep all alone out there, so I slept on the couch with her every once in a while. My husband snores, so sometimes it was an upgrade from my bed. As Sadie got older, I’d sleep out there more often and during the last month or so, I spent most of my weeknights with her. During her last week, I was out there every night, but we didn’t sleep much. It got harder and harder for her to settle in and what made her comfortable wasn’t always comfortable for me.
An interesting quirk Sadie had was how much she loved touch. Our vet never had to struggle with handling her and I’m positive Sadie was her favorite. The only teeny issue was that sometimes it was hard to hear her heartbeat and lungs because she would start purring as soon as the vet or a tech placed the stethoscope on her. She was so quick to purr that you’d think it would feel like a cheap win, but you’d be wrong. I always felt like an accomplished cat-whisperer every time I got instant positive feedback from giving her the smallest of head-scritches.
In Sadie’s later years, my husband discovered that she did a really cute thing in response to kissing noises. When you made those little noises right above her head, she’d bob her head back, raising her chin, and closing her eyes, almost as if anticipating the forehead kisses you’ve definitely just offered to give her. We’d comply, obviously – you can’t leave a kitty hanging.
I miss feeling her next to me. I miss her warmth giving me comfort. I miss her purrs reminding me I’m not alone. I miss having a reliable couch companion on those nights I needed to escape a snore-ful bedroom. I miss the presence of a pure, good, and perfect soul making my house feel more like home and making the world feel a little more beautiful.
Girly Details 