Rainbow Bridge

Rainbow Bridge - that place in the sky where furry friends wait for us. Brigadune has her own special page, of course.

I can hardly bear to write about my dear darling Sprite. Sprite was the first pet during college - a gray longhaired kitten who got into everything, including my heart. I got her just before she was thrown into the woods in a bag with her brother. I disliked cats - definitely a dog person. It took her all of about 3 seconds to change my opinion and my world. For the next three years, Sprite went everywhere with me. She even rode in the car (draped around my neck, and occasionally across the top of my head. Sprite got her name for a reason - into everything from day one, and queen of the castle. She had her bad points - she preferred carpet to the litter box (oh the carpet carnage over the years!) and she had a lovely (not) disease called inflammatory bowel disease (diagnosed after $6000 worth of biopsy surgery, ultrasound surgery, x-rays, medications, prescription food). But the fact that I adored her above all my pets should tell you what a special girlie she was to me.

the time she went up a tree as a kitten, yowled for 5 hours, then took a two story leap into my arms.

The time she did her "job" under my desk (I had yet to learn that it was useless to try and stop her) and I knocked myself unconscious trying to grab her. (I woke up soon after - rather bloody. It took 3 years before my scar stopped twinging.)

Once I woke up in the middle of the night to a huge CRASH! I decided it was worth investigating. The kitchen was a complete disaster (2 gallons of french-fry oil was cooling on the counter. WAS being the operative word.) Oil dripped down the walls, the sink, the fridge. It was several months before you could walk on the floor without slipping. Anyway, there was Sprite, completely drenched in french-fry oil (I'm not sure I ever got all of that out of her fur!)

Sprite had an overactive imagination, resulting in huge marathons around the apartment, poor Perry and Baroque racing around at the same time, trying to figure out what was going on. She also had a disturbing habit of looking at the wall directly over your shoulder - rather worrisome when you live alone and are just the tiniest bit afraid of ghosts.

Sprite had rather odd tastes in treats and music. She adored sugar - if the sugar bowl was uncovered, she'd lick out little valleys. She also adored fruit loops and popcorn :) At Christmas, I'd hang one candy cane low on the tree. Sprite would slowly lick it through December, always getting about halfway through by the end of the year. As for music - I had never imagined that a cat would have a musical preference. Sprite got all mushy whenever I whistled "Oh Christmas Tree." Yep. I'm not sure how in the world I discovered that fact. All of a sudden, she'd appear, meowing, purring, rolling around on her back in ecstasy. Never failed.

There are so many more memories that I have of my mussie (short for Spritamus, which was long for Sprite :)). The way she used to nibble our eyelashes at night, the little love bites in the back of the leg while brushing your teeth. She was so very gentle. While our other cats would eat bugs, Sprite would gently touch them with her paw. One of my favorite moments was actually caught on film. Sprite spent several minutes sniffing noses with a caterpillar! She adopted my hamster and my dwarf bunnies during college, chasing them, then turning and allowing them to chase her, while Perry pouted in the other room, plotting revenge against all rodents. And how she loved the boys! Many of our male guest had the privilege of a private hair grooming as they sat on our couch.

My favorite time was love time. Sprite would look directly in my eyes, and I knew what to do. I bend down, and ahhhh. She'd leap up, rubbing each cheek across my cheeks. Then, she'd press her nose against mine, and we'd commune, looking right into what felt like our very souls. She did that 3 weeks ago, jumping up onto her perch and giving me a particularly long, loving stare. I'd been worried about her - she'd been a bit lethargic for a twelve year old. But that moment made me feel better. I just didn't realize that she was saying goodbye. That was the last time she was herself. For the next two weeks, she moved less and less, and seemed to have retreated deep inside. She had liver cancer. That was one of the hardest moments of my life when I had to put her to sleep. The doctor gave her a sedative, and she fell asleep in my arms while my eighteen month old daughter stroked her and murmured "my mow mow, oh my mow mow." When it was done, I brought her home and stroked her head for an hour on the porch while my husband dug a place under the dogwoods. I cried for four days. And last night, as I let the dogs out, I could almost see her leaping up to her perch by the door, waiting for her last "love" of the night...... It broke my heart all over again.

oh my mow mow, my mussie, my heart. I love you so dearly still. I hope you are somewhere with the butterflies, waiting for me.

Sadly, we have yet another loss to report. Maggie, our last ferret, Chris's little bit of fluff, left us in December. Maggie made all of our lives more interesting - she hated women, running after us and nipping our ankles. But she loved her men, snuggling and sniffing. The past few years, Maggie changed, mellowing, accepting everyone. Her greatest joys were running across the porch and leaping into the cat foodbowl, then racing back to rest in the crook of a friendly arm. Now she has gone to join Pippin at that smorgasbord in the sky. Sprite and Perry seem a bit off balance, losing both their ferrets and their friend Baroque in the past year. We'll miss you little lady.

Eight years ago, I took a little Himalayan kitten home. He was inbred, undernourished, and had almost died from a bacterial infection in his blood. His owners decided he was too much trouble, and boarded him indefinitely at the clinic where I worked. After 3 months, I couldn't take it anymore and took him home. My other two cats ignored him - and he certainly was odd. He didn't seem to know he was a cat, and he'd get lost in the house, howling pitifully until we found him. I always called him my "special" kitty. He had a genetic eye bobble, so the more excited he got, the more his eyes jiggled. He'd compensate by wiggling his head - what a sight when he was watching the birds! He was so clueless - he didn't know how to be a cat! He seemed confused by all his hair, so I started shaving him, which he loved (sure looked funny - I left one puff on the end of his tail <G>). But he still didn't fit in.

Until he bonded with a certain fluffy corgi. Brigadune watched him for a week, and then decided Roquie was pretty darn cool. They began playing together all the time - Baroque taught Dunie to "flea-bite" his back when he came up, butting his head against hers. She'd go up and down his back, giving him this "kitty massage," and he'd purr and stretch, until he couldn't even stand up. After 5 minutes or so, Brigadune would get playful and start nipping his ears and legs. Baroque would flip over on his back, and Dunie'd LEAP on top - let the fun begin!!! Baroque wrapped his legs around Dune's body, both would put back their ears, close their eyes, open their mouths, and go at it! The object of the game was never quite clear to us observers.... Baroque taught Dune to be gentle. He'd hide under the couch when Dune was too rough. Dune would growl menacingly, trying to grab him.... and YIPE!!! He'd stick his claw into her ears. She had very sore ears for a while until she learned :). The last time Dune was ever rough with him was hysterical. He was backed into a corner and she was darting at him, nipping and snapping. He reached out and ZAP. Stuck his claw right into her tongue! Dune closed her mouth on him (gently), since he wouldn't retract his claws, and slid him gingerly towards her. What an impasse! She refused to let go, and he refused to retract! I think they stood there like that for about 5 minutes, wide eyed cat with one paw gently held in a nervous corgi's mouth. Then they came to some kind of agreement, and both let go. They've been best buds ever since.

Baroque turned eight this week. And, yesterday, Brigadune was standing at the door, whining. Baroque was out on the porch, sleeping his last sleep in his favorite chair, in his favorite position. I can barely even stand to think of the moment when I realized that even though his little body was there, he had gone leaping off to heaven without his best bud. We don't know what happened - maybe his sweet little heart just gave out. But at least it looked peaceful.