13 1/2 years ago, Erik and I got married in my home church in Cedarburg, WI. After our honeymoon, we drove his truck, filled with wedding gifts, to Conrad, MT, where we were serving as pastors. On the way, we stopped at a friend's house, knowing that they had kittens they were giving away. We met a few kittens, and a cute little gray one seemed to like us. So we added her to our haul and brought her home with us. Sheba was the first pet that was ever just mine.
She was part-Siamese, which made her very vocal. Even when she was full-grown, she had a high-pitched yip and would have yipping conversations with me from time to time. Perhaps thanks to a couple over-excited little girls she met when she was a kitten, Sheba wasn't fond of strangers. I always described her as "curious but not friendly." She'd often sniff people, and when they'd try to pet her, she'd decide she didn't want any of that, and would walk away. But she always loved us, even when we tried to drug her and take her on a 2-day car trip to Wisconsin when we moved here. The drug only served to slow her down and make her meow sound drunk. I don't think she slept more than an hour in the car. It was a long 2 days. She still loved us, even when we brought screaming babies into the house.
I took her to the vet maybe 6 months ago, and she had pneumonia. They gave her a shot and declared her well a few weeks later. She still coughed occasionally, but otherwise, she seemed okay. She was less okay when we brought Ginger home. When she saw our energetic, excited, jumpy puppy, I could see her thinking, "Really? I'm too old for this crap." She calmly walked away from the puppy, down to the basement, where she sleeps and eats. And that's where she's lived, by choice, for the last month. She's snuck upstairs a few times, and we've brought her up a few times, but she always quietly walks back down to the basement, as if to say, "Thanks for thinking of me, but I'd rather escape the puppy madness."
For the last few days, we've found Sheba in odd places - under our bed, in our bathroom, sitting outside our shower. Yesterday, we came home from church, and she was more howly than usual in the basement. Within a few minutes, she came upstairs to the living room, which she hasn't done in over a month. She quietly laid down on the carpet, and within a couple minutes, she had died.
The girls and I were shocked. If she was still sick, she hadn't shown it. 13 isn't that old for a cat. We talked a little about losing pets and our sadness, and we just held one another for a while. Later, when I told Scarlett that maybe someday we'll get another cat, she said, "It would just die." You've gotta love a 5-year-old fatalist. :)
Losing a pet is hard. Sheba's been a part of our family for longer than our kids have. We have lots of memories of her, from various stages of our life together. We may get another cat (long after Ginger is better trained and chills out a bit), but it'll never be Sheba. We're grateful that she was a part of our family.
We love you Sheba - we'll miss you.
