Ms. Annie left the last of her nine temporal lives behind at about 12:30 Saturday afternoon with the assistance of our favorite vet. As we waited outside the veterinary clinic to be escorted in, we placed Annie’s carrier in a spot of sun and opened the top, letting her soak in the heat. She was, like most cats, a natural heat seeker, and despite her failing health, she seemed to appreciate this opportunity. Then we took her inside and, after just a few very long and teary minutes, she was gone.
And now there are only two.
Cats sharing our home, that is.
The last time we had just two cats living with us was June 5, 1987, the day before we adopted Kua, our second calico, from a pet shop in Kalihi. She joined two other cats–the very senior gray tiger we adopted immediately on our arrival in Honolulu in 1969, and our first calico, who came to us as a Christmas gift in 1986. So it has been a very long time (33 years) since our census has been this low. We’re going to have some adjusting to do.
But back to Ms. Annie. We found her on the beach in Kaaawa at 6 a.m. on Sunday morning, August 31, 2003. I can say that with authority because I found a photo, with original date and other data intact, taken at the scene of the rescue, and others taken later in the day as she explored her new home. She was, you will have to admit, a beautiful kitten. Needless to say, we did only a cursory look for the home she had disappeared from, and luckily failed to locate it.
Just click below and wander through scenes from Annie’s first day with us.
FYI, the last photo in the sequence shows Annie looking a bit worried as she is examined from a distance by Duke, who was just a year old at the time. He was there on Day 1. And he was still here on her final day.
Annie had been with us just two months when I noted her new early morning routine.
It starts somewhere between 3 and 4 a.m. when she climbs up onto the bed after spending time in some hidden place, crawls up between Meda and I, and then takes up a strategic position between our heads. It’s just a double bed, and there are usually at least two other cats already on the bed, so Annie has to rely on stealth until she gets into place. Then the purring starts in earnest, aimed first towards one person, then towards the other. The purring might be accentuated by a dainty lick on the nose. That’s a cat lick on a person’s nose, just to be clear. It usually isn’t too clear at 4 a.m., more than a little foggy, in fact. We should probably get mad, but she’s just too cute to sanction, so we’ve just got to go with the flow. In time this will get “old”. For now, it’s still endearing.
And it remained so throughout her long life.
Annie also proved to be an excellent hunter. Huntress? Whatever. She was good, and the overgrown four-acre parcel of land in front of our house in Kaaawa proved again and again to be a bountiful hunting ground.
Here’s a post I wrote back on May 7, 2012.
I crawled off to bed early last night, leaving Meda watching the rest of a movie we had started.
I’d been asleep for nearly an hour when her screaming woke me up.
I flew out of bed and down the hall. Meda was there pointing towards the closed door leading into my bathroom and saying something about Annie, the smallest of our eight cats but the only regular hunter among the current cohort. So I peeked into the bathroom. There was Ms. Annie, sitting proudly on the tile floor. Next to her, a not insubstantial rat, very much alive and very scared.
Meda had watched her stroll into the house carrying said rat in her mouth, apparently to impress us. Perhaps for a late evening snack.
I just pick up smaller rats and carry them back outside, but I don’t go after bigger ones like this with bare hands.
I returned to the bathroom armed with a small plastic container and a recent Mother Jones magazine. The rat was scared enough that I was able to quickly trap it under the overturned container, then slide the magazine underneath as a floor, and headed outside with rat scratching around trying to escape. As I stood on the steps, I asked Meda to get her iPhone and take a picture, which follows.
The dark shape is the rat, with its long tail extending out towards the camera.
I walked out to a corner of the yard and let the rat run off into the dark. I don’t think there were any cats in immediate pursuit, but a head start is all I can promise.
You can, of course, click for a larger version of the photo.
Annie’s years with us spanned 17 years, nearly a quarter of our lives. It’s impossible to boil all that shared experience down into a few paragraphs. I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead.
Raise a glass to Miss Annie, if you are so inclined. I know we will.
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To Annie,
She was a good cat, you and Meda gave her a good life. You were blessed to have her in your life. She will be missed.
Enjoyed the memories:|
Ian and Meda,
I remember when Annie became part of your family, and why she was named Annie.
It’s never easy letting a family member go, but I time, you will shed fewer tears and share brighter smiles.
Annie was one lucky cat to have had you guys in her life. Making the decision is never easy. I was taken aback the first time I had to put down a pet, when the vet had me pay on entry instead of after the appt. As I walked out of the vet carrying my beloved I understood. Peace to you and Meda
Ian, you and Meda gave her such a good life. She will be missed. Rest In Power, Ms. Annie.