Over the course of the last nine months, Gadora has been considerably privileged to create watercolor portraits for your loved-ones. Sadly, many requests come from mourning pet-owners. You want to remember your babies. Along with their pictures, you have offered their stories: funny anecdotes, silly situations and sad, sad endings. You are proud parents not wanting to forget. It is heart-warming to know there are so many good people.
For fifteen years I have loved a sweet and snuggly creature. Born Pepé La Pew, she’s been my dainty, happy fuzz-butt princess this whole entire time. Yesterday, my beloved Peepers, as she later answered to, said goodbye to this world. She was a beautiful, and sweet sweet kitty.
Two years into having Harley, my first love, I set about to find him a mate. The Peeps was part of a litter of cats in Fredericksburg, TX—some with six toes and some with sad eyes. Unsatisfied with the first few, they confided they kept one more kitten in the bedroom. “She is crazy,” they added. They opened the door and out popped an enthusiastic wee little kitten with wild eyes and bundles of energy. There’s my girl…. I knew.
What I could never have imagined on that day was all the love my girl freely would give for her whole entire life. She was a lover, not a fighter… though sometimes she’d fiercely ward off Harley’s advances (he was often a cantankerous stinker!). Peepers made nests in the funniest places and loved her some laps. I grew to love her nightly crawl upon my belly, and subsequent sit, when I was lying in bed with a book. She had the daintiest whisper of a purr that let me know she was often quietly content.
Peepers didn’t much care for personal hygiene. She had better things to do. So “we” took regular baths. She was a good girl in the tub, only making a wet and soppy escape on a few occasions. Her teensy stature was evident when she was sudsy.
Not generally a beggar, she sometimes enjoyed supper time with the rest of the table. I didn’t really mind. I enjoyed her conversation. Her mews were slight, and direct. And squeaky cute.
My Peeps was famous for getting into things. She’d make a nest in my sock drawer, if left open for a second. She relished an empty box. In her later years, Peeps would eat the toilet paper if left on the roll. She’d scratch and scratch at nothing at all, and always gave me a giggle.
My girl liked her attention. If I wasn’t at the ready to give her some lovin, she would simply take it. She’d search for a finger and rub her singularly-freckled nose on it. She’d stop at a corner and nuzzle her muzzle, taking care to massage each side of her jaw. Nuzzle the left. Switch to the right. Scratch. Nudge. Kiss. I was mesmerized by her sweet temperament. She was such a silly bean.
• • •
I, along with my very most amazing BFF, said our goodbyes to The Peepers yesterday. I knew all along My Peepers had a BIG heart, but in the end it was a tumor on her heart—a mass three times what it should have been—that would take her life. Hers was a brave and dignified ending to a life well-loved. Well-lived.
Thank you My Sweet Peeps for the very best of you.
Pepé La Pew
August 1995 ~ March 31, 2010