Our sweet Gracie passed away in my arms this morning. Her Daddy, Uncle Jerry, and Auntie Lulu were all joining me in wishing her farewell. Her sister Sophie who was her very bonded and life-long friend lay beside her. Little Penny laid on my legs at Gracie’s feet. Chelsea and Faith looked on in Auntie Lulu’s arms. Gracie waged a courageous battle against canine lymphoma and had 19 extra months of quality life thanks to the loving care of Melanie Mc Mahon, DVM and techs Pam and Carol as well as all the staff at Northwest Veterinary Specialists. She was well during almost all of her months of treatment. We were told she was always a great patient. 

Gracie was the foodie in our clan. She galloped rather than ran so we always referred to her as our “Galloping Gourmet”. She was always the first in line for breakfast or dinner and anything in between. As she galloped about her ears flopped endearingly with each step.

As I have said many times Gracie and I were enmeshed but we liked it that way. She was whereever I was these last 13 plus years. She would have been 14 in January. She was sweet and sometimes goofy especially as an adolescent. She occasionally got into mischief. She was skunked twice, once at 3 AM when I let her out to potty. On one occasion, during her puppyhood, my aunt and I spent over an hour cutting burrs out of her fur after she had run amuck in our giant oak forest that was our backyard in California. She was forever the watch dog looking out off our deck in Santa Rosa and our windows here in Battle Ground. She was always the first to alert us when someone was arriving.

She was a beautiful animal with a gorgeous just barely wavy thick white coat, Her tail was full and draped beautifully to the floor. Her lashes were long suggesting we should have named her Mabeline. Those eyes were beautiful, large and brown with black halos around them. 

She and Sophie were always together, we called them Frick and Frack. So I have had two welcome sweet appendages about me, even to the bathroom and into bed at night. Gracie slept on a pillow in our bed above my head. She spent her last night in my arms in our family room with the soft lights of our Christmas trees. We said our goodbyes. From Gracie, I truly experienced unconditional love and loyalty. There will never be a day as long as I live that I will not feel her loss and remember her with love. She was lovingly and caringly assisted in her journey forward by Elaine Stevens DVM of Compassionate Care. She passed on looking at one of our beautiful Christmas trees sitting on the table next to her. She peacefully drifted away to join Millie, Ariel, “The Pookster” and Sera who all proceeded her.

Good bye sweet Gracie you will forever be in our hearts.

Christine (Mom to you dear heart)

Ron and Christine Broderick, Battle Ground, WA

There’s a line from a William Butler Yeats poem:  “Things fall apart; the center cannot hold…”  With Isabelle’s recent death, our house is painfully empty, though filled with echoes of everyday events and sense memories that haven’t yet fully made the transition from “aching” to “fond.”  Little Isabelle was central to our household in ways we’re only now discovering with her absence.  She was certainly central in our hearts – as was her older brother, Gus, gone only six months prior.

It was a joy over the years to watch Isabelle blossom and open up while living with us.  Our first glimpse of Isabelle showed us a timid, tiny ball of black-and-white fur curled up so tightly in a dark corner of a Humane Society cage that we almost overlooked her (twice!).  From that beginning we saw her become a relaxed, calm kitty who loved belly rubs, lap snuggles, sleepy-eyed morning visits at the foot of the bed, and exploring the neighborhood with her brother.  We watched Isabelle mature into a feisty, confident “she who must be obeyed” who, in spite of her diminutive size, nonetheless patrolled our property daily, running off any interlopers she deemed unworthy, and who told her humans in no uncertain terms when to go to bed and just who could snuggle whom.  And we were thrilled to witness her late-in-life manifestation as “Adventure Cat,” the only one of all our cats to see the Pacific Ocean and walk among the California redwoods.

And it’s been an equal joy to realize how deeply Isabelle impacted us.  The idea that cats train their humans certainly isn’t original with us.  But in our household we’ve added a twist:  the notion that cats not only train their humans, but mark them with a paw-print on the forehead — invisible to humans but readily apparent to cats, like the feline equivalent of a hobo’s mark on a house during the Great Depression.  The more cat-accomodating the human, the deeper the paw-print.

My paw-print is quite deep these days.  Though it started forming long ago, it was Isabelle who refined it, deepened it, lovingly and dutifully polished it over more than 14 years.  Even though I can’t see it myself, I’m proud of this paw-print.  It’s a mark of the reciprocal love Isabelle and I had for one another.  And it’s a reminder of the lessons I learned from her, such deceptively simple, zen-inflected lessons as  “Take the time to relax and do nothing:  be a cat.”  And I know that my wife Mary bears a similar paw-print herself. 

Thank you for your time with us, Isabelle Dolores.  Thank you for choosing to live with us, for calling us your friends, for gracing us with your poise, your calm dignity, and most of all your love. 

We will always miss you, little one.  We will always love you.  We will always treasure your memory, and wear your paw-print proudly.

- Colin and Mary Cameron, Portland OR

In Memory of Cyrus, August 2000 – April 2011

April 1, 2011:  Today I had to say a final goodbye to my beautiful feline companion, Cyrus. It’s been a hard few weeks with the decision put off several times. He gave me more than ten years of love, warmth, playfulness, and loyalty. Among his cat-quirks, he loved to sit on the edge of the tub, and walk around in the water as the tub emptied. He greeted all my friends at the door with an upturned face for a kitty kiss. That cat could read my mind, and was my stalwart sentinel through four surgeries, and many other challenges. 

Over the years, Cyrus soldiered through his own surgeries, and two months of chemo last winter with amazing aplomb. The cancer has won out, but I had an extra four years of his quiet presence. In the end, I am glad that I waited for today. On this warm day, he got to lay in the sun, and sit on the windowsill and feel the breeze.

For those who especially appreciated Cyrus and his place in my life, remembrances/donations to Animal Aid (http://www.animalaidpdx.org/) or the Oregon Humane Society (http://www.oregonhumane.org/) are welcome.

Marcy Jacobs, Portland, OR

Memorial to Carmi (aka Pumpkin Boy)   1996- 2011

Carmi (Pumpkin Boy) came into my life unexpectedly on August 29, 1996. He was about 6 months old and had been left in a park in North Portland near a school where I worked at the time. I intended to find a good home for him but instead his good home turned out to be with me, his feline sister Sugarcat (none too pleased by his arrival), and later his canine sister Nicki and feline brother Tiger. For almost 15 years, I woke up to Carmi in my face and went to sleep the same way. In his younger years, Carmi was known for his butt wiggle which preceded the pounce (often involving the not so amused Sugarcat). He was such a wonderful combination of sweet and naughty. Carms was the ultimate cuddly cat with a purr that never stopped. So many of my friends and family were crazy about Carmi; he just had a way of winning hearts. The last two years were rough, with a series of medical problems. But right up to the end, Carmi was snuggling and purring, starting and ending each day on my chest, right up in my face. He was helped over the Rainbow Bridge on March 11, 2011. His passing was peaceful and beautiful, with many tears. Two months later, it is still hard because it just feels so wrong, so impossible, that he is not here with us. I treasure all the memories and there are so many. I love and miss him every day. Carmi was my baby and he will reside in my heart forever.

- Rita Smith, Portland, OR

Dear Bling Bling,

You have been away from us just one short week and your loss is still very heavy on our hearts. You were such a special little person always happy and a friend to everyone. I can still see you walking toward me with your big plume of a tail in the air and your long white socks. You so loved playing with the other guys in the yard or Annie chasing a feather through the air. When your Mom would bring kittens home to foster, you were right there to watch them and make sure they learned how to play.

We have to thank you for the golden gift of Newt who you found out in our cul-de-sac one summer evening. You were his Uncle Bling from that night on and he learned how to be a good cat from you. I believe he is trying to comfort us in your passing by spending much more time with us and being an even bigger love.

Mike and I will always feel blessed having loved you for your short life. You gave us so much happiness. We will miss you and love you always.

Mike and Lynda 

Mike and Lynda Orzen, Oregon City, OR

Cassiopeia, my darling “Little Orange Cat,” passed away quietly at home Monday morning after a short illness, with me by her side. 

She was born an only kitten on April 8, 1995, in a shoe in a boyfriend’s closet in Canoga Park.  Single kittens are rare, and female orange kittens are rarer still: 1 in 4000.  She was absolutely one of a kind in so many ways.  Her young mother did not know what to do with a kitten, so my boyfriend and I bottle fed her, bathed and took care of her.  Eventually Cassie came to live with me, where she joined Perseus and Natasha in the household, and a short time later the boyfriend and another kitten, Chelsea, joined us.  Eventually, the boyfriend left and fortunately for me, he also left Cassie.  It was the best gift he could have given me, and having Cassie in my life is the closest I will ever be to being a real mom.

She was an excellent companion.  She was not particularly interested in going outside, but would if I was with her.  She loved to follow me around the house and would supervise while I did laundry, loaded the dishwasher, vacuumed.  She enjoyed sitting on the dining table by the window watching me cook, and if there wasn’t any cooking going on she would nap on the table in the sun.  She enjoyed life’s simple pleasures.

As the years went by, Cassie was my willing companion on many adventures:  Moves to Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Seattle, Los Angeles (again), and Portland.  She had to help Perseus and Natasha keep an eye on me.  While she had Percy and Natasha as her “cat parents,” it was me she loved the most.  While I have loved and been loved by all my cats, I have never had a pet that I knew, without a shadow of doubt, loved me.  I was her person, and she was very much my little girl.  When I got home from work in the evening she would greet me at the door, rubbing my ankles and crying with desperation for me to pick her up.  If I ignored her, she would begin climbing up the leg of my pants, until I reached down, detached her from my pants, and held her.  If I was sitting on the sofa watching TV, she was either on my lap or behind me on the back of the sofa, resting her head or a paw on my shoulder.

She slept with me every night, leaning against the pillow on the other side of the bed, purring while I fell asleep, with a paw stretched out touching me, of course.  Her last 2 nights, she moved over and slept on my pillow; I know now that she wanted to be as close to me as possible during the time she had left.

My Cassie, my “Bebes,” my “Marow Marow,”, my “Little Orange Cat,” I love and miss you so much.

- Vanessa Conley, Portland, OR

Dear Toby,

Upon awakening today, we knew things weren’t the same

No furry bundle beside the bed, no reason to go out in the rain

Your place in our hearts will always be, yours and yours alone

Knowing you, brought a sense of pride, a bright light on our lives shone

Now that you’re gone, your presence resides in our wondrous memories

Of cross country trips, of camping sites, of sun and a warm summer breeze

Of chasing herons at Bonneville, of sharing a snack or two

Of attending family gatherings, of smelling things anew

Your life goes on in another world, your spirit, a chance to soar

Just keep a smile on your friendly face and act like you know the score

We hope you’ve enjoyed being with us, as much as we have with you

Family, friends, neighbors and pets, they’ll all be missing you too

We know you must be moving on and we wish you the best of luck

We love you, old pal.  Our blessings on you….

Always,

Julie and Chuck

- Julie and Chuck Harold, Portland, OR

Goodbye My Buddy

Today my beloved dog Chance went to a higher place. He is now resting peacefully and is free of any pain. Chance was my best bud for 14 years.

Chance had been suffering from painful hip dysplasia for nearly 2 years – and although his mind was still very sound, his physical body could no longer keep up with him.

He had many nicknames. Chancy; Chance-a-France; Sir Chancealot; Moose; Scooby; Dirp. But whatever we called him, he will always be remembered as a gentle giant that was always happy to be part of the family.

Chance brought much joy, laughter, happiness, and most of all, unconditional love to my life. He was my baby, partner, best friend, and companion.

Chance was a very smart guy. He could identify and retrieve about 10 different types of toys just by their names. Chance loved to go for car rides. He could chase a tennis ball all day long. He loved to harass the various cats that have come and gone, and lived for treats.

I will miss Chance for the rest of my life. Rest peacefully my Buddy!

Chance   ~   April 20, 1997 – January 18, 2011

 - Chris Lawrence, Portland OR

My dear Char-Bear:

You have always been one of the sweetest cats I’ve met. You were my ‘Momma Cat’ – always coming over to cuddle when I had my bad moments, especially after my divorce and when I felt so desperately alone. I’d pet you, and then you would lick me as if to tell me it was going to be all right. And it is all right, Charlotte.  Thank you, my sweet Boo-Boo, it is all right after all.

Remember when I came to the C.A.T. shelter and they brought you in the room with me? You and Betsy were so scared, but I tried to reassure you that it was going to be ok.  You purred, as I recall, when I held you. It was all right at that point because you chose me to spend your life with at that moment.

Hopefully, you didn’t mind the name change- you have been a ‘Sparkle’ in my life but I didn’t want you to go through your life with the name of a stripper- and came up with Charlotte, which is a pretty awesome name for such a gorgeous cat.

It wasn’t until I got you both home that I realized exactly how special of a kitty you really were.  I thought something was wrong with how you walked by limping, and discovered that you were born with only one toe on your back paw, and were missing others on your front paw. But that never stopped you from hobbling around and being curious. 

Sometimes, in the summer, you were actually so fast that I could barely stop you from racing outside into the backyard when I opened the door just so you could go bask in the sun.  Oh, how you loved rolling around on the deck, luxuriating in the warmth – that was your most favorite thing in the whole world to do… I know that you felt so happy in that sun and you just enjoyed being outside, hanging out with me in the sun.  Then, you always wanted to make a bee line for the grass so you could get your fill of greens.   Oh, and of course, to watch the birds, the little huntress that you are.

Your gait always told me what was going on in the house.  When I was downstairs, I could always hear you crossing the floor – ka-thumpa, ka-thumpa, ka-thumpa.  You never did like me touching your deformed paw, which I tried to respect, always pulling it away as though it was sensitive (which I am sure it was)  It was also difficult when I would try to clip your nails, but I tried to be as gentle as possible.

Every morning, you would be the first one on the bed to let me know it was time for breakfast, sometimes clambering over me and then sitting solidly on my chest to peer into my eyes to see if I was getting up. The moment I twitched, you’d jump down then you were leading me up the stairs, waiting anxiously for your stinky cat food that you love so much.  Once I introduced you to that, boy, you never wanted to go back… and I hope your last few days with us allowed you to eat as much of that stuff that you wanted to, including the cheese and cat nip that you love so much. 

Remember all the times when I was asleep and you decided to share the bed with me?   And what about the times that you woke me up, eating my hair as if to just say, “This is silly, but I am doing it anyway to get you to pay attention to me.”

I remember the first time you made a noise… you have always been a cat of very few words, and it took a long time after I brought you home before I even heard you miaow.  I remember that it was in the middle of the night, and you let out a ‘Eeeeeeooooowwwwww’ at such a high pitch that it sounded positively ghostly – I woke up, panicked and fearful of that dreadful noise I had heard while sleeping.  Since then, I heard you miaow more, telling me how hungry you were or how happy you were that you knew that the food was coming. You fixed your ‘miaower’ – talking sometimes just to say, “hey!” to my ‘hi’.   Your almost-silent ‘Unh’ to also say, ‘whatssup?’

I loved it when you drooled on me while I was petting you.  Seems like that was your ultimate expression of happiness and contentment.  I also loved having you on my chest, you purring, and me pulling your whiskers and ears back gently – you’d stick your tongue out at me but loved every moment of it, my little puma-cat. 

You were also so polite when I was eating foods that you desperately loved, including burritos stuffed with ground turkey. You would delicately pat me as if to pull my arm to you and drop the turkey morsel in front of you.  Of course, I did, and thought it endearing when you would take the food directly out of my hand.

Charlotte, I do still feel badly about all the times that I dragged you to the vet, but I did it to try and find out what was going on, and also to make you feel better and hopefully more comfortable. And I am sorry about the time that I gave you that bath – I thought you were going to kill me.  I know you didn’t mean to bite me as hard as you did… you were scared and really not liking what was going on. 

My sweet Charlotte, I hope you are in a better place now, and please know that I made this decision based in a place of compassion, love and with the hope that you wouldn’t have to endure extreme suffering by the diseases going through your body.  I don’t know what would have happened if we had waited, but the last thing I would want is that you would suffer in any way.  I hope that your time with me and our family was good, and your needs were all met, and you got all the love that you needed.  You sure filled my heart with joy, and even surprise when you would suddenly appear after withdrawing for hours, and want a pat or scratch under the chin.  I always loved how you would have your ‘crush’ days where you would follow me everywhere, looking for a little extra love.

I just want to say thank you for all of the kitty kisses, loving nudges, hair-eating, arm-patting, lap sitting, and general companionship.  Your heart was large for a reason… because you were sweet to the core.  Thank you for so many great memories, and I hope that wherever you are, we can meet again someday so I can put my arms around you and hold you, telling you how much I love you.

Goodbye, Charlotte, and peace be with you. I hope our seven years together was as good for you as it was for me.

Love you forever,

Dawn

- Dawn Rasmussen, Portland, OR

Goodbye, My Opal 

Letting go is the toughest thing.

But if I don’t, how can we spread our wings?

How can our soul fly to where it’s supposed to be?

My heart aches because I miss you.

Your protective eyes can no longer look into mine,

Your comforting groan as I rub your ear,

The sounds of your nose as you sniff my hair.

Running and playing with your sibling,

Chewing your blanket but never creating holes,

Sitting under my knees to comfort me,

Your stubby tail wagging uncontrollably.

Your heartening presence, your one flippy ear,

All these things were who you used to be.

The last night I held you close,

Your unique smell and warmth,

It was the hardest decision I had to make,

It wasn’t for mine, but your sake.

You were holding on because of me,

The pain in your eyes said you can no longer be.

I had to remind myself I wasn’t doing this to you,

But instead, doing this for you.

Letting go is the toughest thing

But if I don’t, how can we spread our wings?

How can our soul fly to where its supposed to be?

Now that I have released you, we are both at peace. 

Jennifer Dodson, Sherwood, OR