Little Flutterbugs

Sixteen years ago, I was sitting at home when my father surprised me with a little black and white cat my godmother had found in her backyard. My father said, my godmother had named her “Oreo”. I quickly changed her name to “Gatina”. I was pleasantly surprised that my father had finally given in to my countless requests for a kitty cat. I had unofficially been caring for the local alley cats in our neighborhood. Caring for them by providing food and water and a clean front door mat for them to sleep on.

When Gatina arrived, she hid for days; only peeking out to eat and drink water. Gatina had been terrorized by my godmother’s dogs for days. My godmother told me she couldn’t figure out why her dogs kept barking and jumping into the bushes. She finally took a peek and found a defenseless kitty. 

Gatina was always an indoor cat. On occasions she will sneak out and catch a lizard. She would quickly bestow the lizard to us and be proud of her days hunt. Other than that, she was like any other cat. Curled up on our couch or on our bed. While she wasn’t the most social cat; she was very loyal and loving towards us. On any given morning you could find Gatina on our bed and on our pillows. Some how she would manage to take over your pillow and leave you nothing but a hard mattress to sleep on. She learned to tolerate Gabby pulling her tail and Ariana pulling on her ears. Nevertheless, she would show her affection towards the girls by giving them head butts.  

Last Friday, around 6pm, I drove Gatina to the vet. As I drove, I cried. I cried because I knew this would be the last time I would see her. I cried because I knew Gabby would ask for her. I cried because I knew my cat was in pain. A couple of months ago, we noticed a bump on her side. The vet confirmed she had a tumor. Since Thanksgiving weekend, she had become increasingly lethargic, wasn’t eating or drink much. I had also noticed she had lost even more weight. As I sat at the vet’s office holding her, the medication was administered and she quietly drifted asleep. This may be crazy to say, but I’d like to think she is some place better… some place were she is not in pain. 

Goodbye Gatina.. you were loved and will be missed immensely.