Members uepianogirl54 Posted April 29, 2010 Members Report Share Posted April 29, 2010 My Albert - known as Alberta, Boomple, Boompsy, Little Boy, My Baby - had to leave his earthly body last Saturday around noon. He was 17 and a half. He was all white with blue eyes. I had him since he was an infant. One of my parent's male cats, Arthur, brought him in through the cat door from the alley and dropped him at my father's feet in the kitchen. Mother called me to say that my cat, Frank, who was a year old at the time, needed a friend. Of course, I told Mother that I had a cat and only needed one. Of course, Mother and I went back and forth about three times until I gave in and said that I'd come get the lost kitty. He was obviously the runt of the pack and had been separated from his mother for some unforeseen reason. Well, it turned out that Frank and Albert were the best of friends and probably cousins. My parents had two male cats and one female cat at the time. Albert looked very much like the male cat who had not dropped him off, Sam. My Frank was the grandson of my parent's female cat, Jewel. Frank and Albert were similar cats, just different colors from one another. Frank was multi-colored grey with green eyes and as I said, Albert was all white with blue eyes. They were my babies. Frank went to the Rainbow Bridge two years ago on May 30, 2008. Albert left his earthly body on Saturday, April 24, 2010 - one month exactly following my 43rd birthday. Those babies knew their mama loved them. The day that Frank had to be euthanised, the doctor commented on how she had never seen a cat who was so sick - with cancer - have so much interest in living. My babies trusted me to always take care of them. Frank was my number one fan. He walked across the piano keys whenever I played and sat on my papers or books when I was studying. He loved the violin. I always left classical music on for them when I left for the day - and would turn the music on in the car so I would know I was listening to the same thing they were hearing, only imagining how they were enjoying themselves. I would tell them that Mama had to go to work so she could buy them fancy feast. Albert was diagnosed with renal failure a couple of months after Frank was separated from us. He lived two really good years and he and I became even closer. He, his entire life, greeted me at the door when I came home from anywhere especially when I returned from work. My roommates would tell me that both Frank and Albert would go to the door to wait for me five mintues before my car ever pulled up. I work different hours so they never knew exactly when I was coming but they always waited for Mama. Within the past couple of months, Albert really slowed down but he was having good quality of life, just slower. He could still get in the chair or the window or on the bed even up to the last day he was in his earthly body. I had taken him to the doctor one week before his last visit. I gave him fluids for a week and tried a pill that would increase his intake of food and water. When I took him to the vet that last day, he had gained a pound and a half. His muscle mass hadn't increased. The cancer which was apparent finally in his stomach area was being fed by the increase of food and water intake. I knew what we had to do and I held him just as I did when Frank left us. I sang and told him what a good boy he always had been. He's still in the freezer at my house because I have to get someone to dig the grave my friend's house where Frank and my special dog, Nicky, are buried. They must be together. I wanted them to be under the magnolia tree in my back yard because my grandmother had a magnolia tree but I wasn't sure where I was going to be living so I started the burial of my special family of boys at my friend's house that I knew would always be there. There are many trees and lots of other beloved animals buried there and a lake. So, if I ever get to live there, we'll all be together. My vet said she had three urns with her special cats on the shelf above her kitchen window. I liked that idea, too, but, I can't seem to get out of the idea of making sure you're buried in the ground, a societal issue I'm sure. How am I? I burst into tears at least once a day sometimes two or three times. I try desperately not to go into a clinical depression. But, I am reaching out to every venue I can find. One place I lived, Albert could still go outside. He just loved it. When I would drive home late at night from work, he would be running in the back yard of three or four houses before mine parallel to the road that my car was driving on and run in the trailer through the cat door and stand on his four feet in an upright stance to greet me at the door. When I finally came in the door, he would take a big sigh and I would say hello to him and ask him how his day went. One time Frank was locked in the shed one hot afternoon. I hadn't seen him in awhile but knew he loved to prawl about. Albert came through the cat door into the kitchen where I was doing dishes and mowed and mowed until I paid attention to him. He mowed and walked toward the front door. So, I followed him and asked him what he was trying to show me. As we started to go down the steps, I asked him to show me what he was telling me. He walked a couple of steps and mowed and I asked him where Frank was until we reached the shed. I then heard Frankie Boy's little mew and realized Albert was telling me where Frank was. I then unlocked the shed and there Frank was. My goodness aren't they so smart and in tune to those they love. Once Albert was lost for three days. We were living in the trialer still and I was talking in the early evening and heard his voice mowing and mowing. I looked all around the trailer and under the side pendings and could hear him but couldn't find him. Turns out he was locked in my next door neighbor's garage full of junk. I KNEW he was somewhere lost - that he would NEVER be gone that long from home unless he were trapped or lost. He was terrified and I was so relieved. I MISS him so badly. In the past two years I would tell him one time like a dog it was time for beddie-by and he would jump down and beat me to the mattress from two rooms away before I could get my shoes off. He slept on top my chest and licked my chin and nuzzled my nose with his. This was him thanking me for his life and telling me how much he loved me and appreciated me. He bonded with me and I him. Each morning he swatted my face with his sharp claws to get me up to feed him so he could return to sleep in the middle of the bed. Still makes me roll my eyes and smile. I need to know he is all right. I need to know that he is with Frankie Boy and my mother and my father and all the others. I so long for him to greet me when it's my time to go. How does a cat fit into that? All my life I've cognitively believed that my animals are on the other side. But, with Albert's death, I need to KNOW now. Funny ... his meow always sounded like he was saying NOW. I have asked Albert to give me a sign so I will know he's all right. I hurt. I miss him. I cry. I grieve. I have two other cats, a dog and a fish currently. I will always reach out to animals as long as I am in this earthly state. But, Frank and Albert ... they were ...for a lack of a better term...special. Any other human out there still with me? I am studying music therapy in hopes to develop a program for music for animals. I am striving for that higher place...the place where the animals are no doubt loved by God. I do wish I could find a picture of them on this computer. Maybe soon I'll be able to post a picture with this writing. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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