(well, that's the way we spelled it) who was a gift to my Sister. Piewacket joined us at Christmas. She was about eight weeks old and a gorgeous mostly white calico. Sister's Sunday School teacher gave her this little bundle of fur, but Sister had just started college that fall and Mom and Dad promised to keep her until Sister graduated. I don't think anyone thought of how it would be for the next four years. Especially since Mom hated/despised/distrusted felines just a tad more than she did dogs. Piewacket was the second attempt at pets in our home. Who knew how successful it would be with Sister visiting only during the summer months. That same first Christmas, my son received a Hot Wheels track. Do you know how much fun a kitten can have with Hot Wheels that run in circles. Double that and you'll come close to the circus atmosphere. My Dad fell in love with this purrfect pet. Four years later, graduation. Time for Piewacket to move in with Sister, except -- of her new apartment roommates, one hated cats and the other was allergic, so Piewacket received a reprieve and stayed with Dad (and Mom.) Another three years pass and Sister marries -- a man who could not stand cats, so Piewacket remained with Dad (and Mom.) But the marriage didn't last. Piewacket was ten when they divorced and Sister would be living alone, needing cat companionship. For the one time in his life, Dad looked Sister in the eye and said "No." Piewacket was too old to move into an apartment and give up her back yard. Sister, thinking that ten was pretty old for a cat, settled for a new kitten of her own. Piewacket lived to be twenty-two years. Daddy saw to her care, just as he cared for Mom when she was diagnosed with ALS. That disease confined them a great deal to their home. Eventually, it was if to acknowledge Piewacket's age and disabilities might require that "special" vet visit would also mean facing Mom's disintegration. Sister and I were there during one of Mom's hospitalizations. Piewacket still came for her petting, but there was no playing, no energy, no brightness in her eyes, except when Dad came to her. We both told him that when he was ready, we would accompany them. But he declined. It wasn't time yet. She still ate, though she didn't play. No, it wasn't time yet. The next month he called to tell us that Piewacket had died in her sleep. It was, he said, as though when we gave up on her, she gave up, too. But in my mind, I still see that full Hot Wheels layout, in a figure eight, and small streak of calico-spotted whiite chasing cars, forever.
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Thanks for sharing that video and the other stories. My kleenex is always handy.
Originally Posted by slick
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