God has been so very wonderful to us in the past. He has given us some amazing animals to share our lives with, and I am so appreciative. In the spring of 2012, Laura and I were on our way to a small rural township just west of Indianapolis, Indiana, where we were to pick up two free horses. The two of us being horse rescue types, we naturally agreed to take the two very healthy, but older geldings. They needed to stay together, and we were the perfect pair for that! Upon arriving at the barn it was obvious that the owner had a few more furry faces than he needed to, or wanted to, keep up with; his mama cat had given birth to five babies just a few weeks back and she only had two that had survived being born in a barn where hawks and owls roost, and one poor baby had been trampled by one of the horses. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going to happen next, I'm just glad Laura only took one of the babies; not both of them -- and the mother cat! Laura can be that way.
Horses loaded, kitten tucked away inside Laura's hoodie, we were good to go. Little one ended up being a "Sylvester" tuxedo cat, my personal favorite, although I would have been just fine if Laura had chosen the other one, which was also a perfectly tuxedoed cat, only his coloring was more mocha than gray. Laura wanted a female, so a female was taken! I remember naming her Baeleigh and giving her the spelling closest to my own middle name of Leigh, saying to myself that she may have been born in a barn, but she can have a regal name. Born in a barn, raised in the house, and spoiled absolutely rotten to the core. Baeleigh ended up being my cat rather than Laura's; it's funny how the animals decide for themselves who it is they will allow being their servant; she chose well. I cater to fur faces, she must have figured that out pretty quickly. Bae Bae was indeed (and in deed) my kitty.
Always the perfect queen, Bae would never allow another feline to enter her space without permission. Her hiss was strong, forceful, and she had a thing that she did with her head when she made the noise; she would lift up her face into the sky and hiss-snort, it was apparently effective until it was not. For years Bae ruled our home, walked the halls with her small, elegant frame, commanding the bubble in front of her, beside her, behind her, even above her, she had her space and no dog, no cat, and often no human, was allowed to enter without her specifically allowing it. Bae slept with me but rarely cuddled. She again, allowed me to pet her when she wanted to be petted, but I must stop when she gave that order as well. She slept on top of my keyboard and no, I wasn't allowed to type if she was on it. I simply had to wait. She made it perfectly clear that she was queen - - again until she wasn't.
About a year ago we noticed that Bae's authority had dwindled and she became more and more dependent on us. She was actually seeking attention, asking for help, and wanting to be held. This was odd behavior for her, so of course, we traveled to Dr. Sam Crosby Sr., our small animal vet (not to be confused with his son Dr. Sammy Crosby, Jr., our horse vet). Dr. Crosby suggested medication and steroids, he put her on a routine diet, hoping it was just kitty depression, but as time wore on Bae developed a fungus-type abrasion on her face which spread to her eyes, up onto her ears, and finally her chest and arms. We tried EVERYTHING possible, but nothing seemed to ease her itching, her pain, her misery. It became apparent when she was no longer able to breathe, that there had to be something more permanent to do for her. We cried, but it was the best decision.
After 18 months of searching for answers, paying for tests, running the cat back and forth to see her vet hoping for a miracle; today was the day he finally told us that the best thing we could do for Baeleigh is to let her go see George. His words. He knew how much that little weenie dog meant to me; he cried too when he had to send him off to see Jesus last year around this same time. George and Bae were a pair too; both laying on top of one another, vying for the best post on the bed, looking for the right wrinkle in the comforter to lay in, and then pushing the other out of the way to get into that fold a bit better. George always, and I mean always, gave in to Baeleigh. Baeleigh is the queen! George never stood a chance. He considered himself very lucky to have been in her space at all. She silently grinned to herself; he kept her back warm. He had his place.
Today was the day Jesus called His kitten home; she was only 9 years old, but she was ready to go. She was willing to fight for a few more breaths to allow us time to say goodbye. She never really accepted our farewell, choosing rather to lift her face up to the sky to say "I'm ready, send me home". She will be missed and she will be loved all at the same time. If I could give George anything right now, I believe I gave him the best thing possible; his best friend in the world. Rest well sweet kitty, see you soon.
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