Elegy for Sydney

On Sunday, we had our remaining cat, Sydney, euthanized. Sometime on Friday night or early Saturday morning she'd had a stroke. She couldn't hold her head upright. Instead, she held it tilted at an angle -- we think because half of her body was partially paralyzed. She couldn't walk in a straight line. She tried to, but she kept turning in circles. It was hard to see. However, she didn't seem to be in pain. She was still affectionate, still seemed to want to eat (though finding her way to the food bowl was difficult for her). We gave her a day to see if she would improve. But she didn't, and it seemed unlikely she would.

Like Ira, our cat who died a little over a year ago, she was nearly 21 years old. She was a sweet cat with an affectionate disposition. She used to be very skittish, one of those cats you'd never see if you were a visitor to our house. Then, a few years ago, she went deaf and was suddenly friendly and social. She had the most beautiful fur, soft and sweet-smelling, until she got too old to groom herself anymore.

I remember very well the day I got her back in 1987. An old woman living in a decrepit old mansion on Bryant Avenue south in Minneapolis was a bit of a "collector" -- someone who compulsively hoarded cats, although unlike many collectors she also gave them away. That's how I came to get Sydney. I went down the basement (that dark, damp, old-house basement), and there she was -- a little puffball eating canned chicken. She was the only one of her many siblings with long hair.

Now, I'm not usually one to be seduced by cuteness. But she was just overwhelmingly cute. Cosmically cute. If came off her in waves. No one, I think, could be immune.

She was a smart cat, and used to fetch those plastic rings from the gallon milk container caps. When I was done playing, I'd hide the ring from her. Once I put it in a desk drawer, and was later surprised to find the drawer open, and Sydney carrying the ring about in her mouth. She'd figured out how to get on top of the desk, and push/bat the drawer open from behind. You go, cat.

We will miss Sydney, as will Della the Dog who held particular affection for her. Except for a brief period in the midst of the Reagan administration (aka my freshman year of college), I have never lived without a cat. But kitten and newborn baby are not a good mix, I think. Someday we'll get another cat -- we can only hope as sweet and loving as Ira or Sydney.

Goodbye, old friend.

Comments

[HeidiRose]

Becca,
So sorry to hear about Sydney.
Isn't it strange these major life entrances and exits.....
Love you - heidi rose

[Matt]

I am sorry to hear about Sydney. Losing a pet is so hard.

[Andie]

I know I'm late with this, but I am so sorry to hear about Sydney. She was a beautiful and affectionate little girl (I called her "Little Syddi"....she didn't seem to mind).

I'm so glad I got the chance to know her while she was in her more "outgoing" phase. She was lucky to have such a loving mommy!