“You have two options,” said the doctor. “And both are realistic.”
I sat in a chair in the emergency hospital, desperately trying to block out his words.
Lark Kitty, my sweet little rescue cat, had kidney failure. The light-bringer I adopted after my husband George died five years ago, had purred through long nights and wiped away my tears.
The under-thin baby, rescued from a kill shelter, looked as sad as I felt when I first met him at the Pasadena animal shelter. Depressed and without food, he looked up at me, his eyes seeming to ask, “Are you sure you want me? No one else wants me.”
A line from Romeo and Juliet stuck in my head: “The lark represents harsh reality.”
By the time I met her, she had obviously had enough of it. I took her home and she became a textbook example of the power of love. From the moment she stepped out of her cat carrier, she knew she was home. Within weeks, she had gained weight and I was sure to see her smile as she romped from window to window, exploring every piece of furniture, marking every piece of furniture and playing with the countless toys my daughter brought me each time I visited.
Lark took in love like a thirsty flower takes in water. And she gave as much as she got. Neighbors waved to her as she sat in our window seat, and she rubbed the glass in return with her white tuxedo paw.
And now I’ve been told that for my newest family member, who I thought would outlive me, I had two options: Say goodbye to her now, knowing that she had a beautiful but short life (she is only six years old).
Or leave her in the hospital overnight for hydration and treatment and see if she improves.
Sara and I arrived at the hospital the next morning with Lark’s bed, blankie, and her favorite toy, Woody Woodpecker. Her eyes told us we had made the right decision because she snuggled into her white, furry cocoon and began to purr.
She had to stay in the hospital one more night, but when I picked her up the next day, she was full of energy and eager to go home.
She will continue to require treatment, but we are optimistic that her nine lives are not yet used up.
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