I was in a pretty awful place when Kiki found me. I was in a dishonest, mentally abusive relationship with a raging alcoholic and scrambling to find something stable to hold on to, trying fervently to find a way to fix things and make life better.
I had wanted animals, wanted a dog or a cat and had been for several years shut down on that. Hell no we aren’t having any animals would be the reply. I accepted it, until the day I didn’t.
Out on my patio was this sweet little black and white kitty and this big hulky blackish grey kitty. I decided that I would have them. I began to feed them. I would get close enough to pet them. My allergies would explode, my breathing would be in crisis and my eyes would be damned near swollen shut but by God, I wanted these cats. I needed something good to focus on.
It was a matter of weeks that we soon discovered Kiki would be Kikimama. She gave birth to a gorgeous litter and that Christmas, there were 7 cats racing through my house. Tell ME I can’t have an animal. Go ahead.
Kikimama has never been the big game hunter that her son and Baby Daddy are. She is more of the cricket, moth and cicada variety. She loves to hold them in her mouth and feel the vibrations. Really. Who can blame her on that, right? She has a penchant for the freshest of water and is happiest curled up on the bathroom sink. She sleeps at the head of the bed, sometimes on my head, my sneezes be damned.
She has survived the cancer once.
We had the tumor removed last year. And it returned.With a vengeance. Fucking cancer.
Today, we say goodbye to the sweet girl. She has fought the good fight long enough. It is time to let her go, and deliver her from this bullshit pain that she is in.
There are moths and crickets and the loveliest of vibrating bugs awaiting on the other side.
Godspeed sweet girl.