RIP- Pimienta 5/99-4/09

I lost my best friend this past Thursday and to think about it still makes me cry. even as I type this I must pause as the tears stream down my face and I can not see through the pain.

Pimienta was a singular cat. She was an enigma. Fearful, yet courageous, if the doorbell rung she would run, growling to the door, but once she realized her attempt to thwart an entry would not work, she ran and hid under the bed. She mothered me like I was her own, and was constantly told when it was bed time, and she would lay on me when I was ill, but when a new kitten was brought into the house, she constantly protected me from this new intrusion, and never fully made friends with the one we call Baby Cat.

Pimienta was there with me from the worst to the best. Through a divorce, into a new loving relationship. She moved many times as a kitten and never fully was properly socialized. But she came out of her shell. She would sit and watch Animal Planet on TV, then moved to watching and chattering to the birds outside, then began to "hunt" pom-pom toys (orange was her favorite) bringing them to me each night. I tried to teach her to fetch, but being too smart, she devised her own game, catching the toy from the air and then returning it to me with a swift swat from her mitt like paw. She became our best (only) mouser and kept the house free of pests and showed her disapproval when I caught them live and released them back outside.

I sometimes thought that she had an opposible thumb, because without claws she was terrific at picking up toys and manipulating where she would send them, literally throwing them rather than batting at them. She would grab my knitting needles between her toes and pull them from my hands, often pulling them from a row of knitting at the same time. Many a project was restarted because of her antics, and many a needle has her distinct chew marks at its end (or even tip).

Pimienta was my best friend. My beautiful girl. She loved to nap and would come running when I took out the nap time blue blanket from the closet. I was very lucky to have her for 10 years and I will continue to miss her. I have had many pets in my life, and although all are special, every once in a while one stands out from the crowd. Pimienta touched the heart of everyone she met with her quiet confidence, and ultra special personality. Once she trusted you, she just poured love on you.

She never meowed, but she chriped and rrr'ed.. When you touched her she would make a distinctive rrrrup sound and the tone of this rolled r would tell you everything she was thinking and feeling. I often thought that she understood English perfectly and that we communicated better than I communicate with most people. Even at the end, as she was told it was OK to let go, she understood perfectly, and went quietly into the night. It was my father, her friend, who was with her at the end, who loved her and cared for her, and helped her on her journey.

I was not there to say goodbye to my precious. And this guilt tears at me. I was not there when she needed the comfort the most, I was not able to hold her as she left this earth. The anguish tears through me every time I wonder what I could have or should have done differently. I knew she was ill, but her test results showed nothing wrong. I left her with my loving father and some medicine, planning on going to the vet again if she was still ill after my return. I wonder if giving her some different food upset her stomach, I wonder if her overall anxiety filled personality contributed to her death. I wonder if it was a "stroke" as I suspect and that I should have pushed the doctor to examine her further. I wonder if more regular veterinary check ups may have kept this from happening (but I doubt it), or if having a vet that was better in tune with her personality would have understood me better when I told them "something was wrong" necaue she just wasn't being herself.

I cannot keep these things from running around my head, I cannot stop mourning her. I am consumed by grief and more so by my feelings of guilt. Writing this has been cathartic, and I feel is the first step to my healing. But I think of all the times I could have stopped to play when she brought me her toy, rather than sitting here typing, working. I cannot get those moments back, and I wish I could have just one more game.