Gwen’s Little Spot: November 2007

Gwen’s Little Spot

The mental scribblings and daily doings of one transgender woman, writer, and activist, with content somehow deemed good enough to win a 2004 “Queery“ award.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Posted: 2:37:00 PM
Idgie

“She came without a farthing, a babe without a name
So much ado ‘bout nothing is what she’d try to say
So much ado my lover, so many games we played
Through ev’ry fleeted summer, through ev’ry precious day.”
Ten years ago, a stranger showed up on our back door, and made it clear that she was not to be denied access to our home. One by one, she gained a place in our hearts, and within two weeks, our home was hers.

I was the last to fall to her charms. Heather, our roomie, had fallen for her immediately, and Bon soon after — the latter giving this new friend a few scraps of food and a small, warm bed made of a cardboard box top and shredded newspaper. I protested vehemently, for our lease would not allow us to take on such a boarder.

Then I looked into her eyes. I think her and her golden eyes made me a believer in hypnosis, for it was not long after looking deep into them that she was offered full room and board.

I speak, of course, of Imogene “Idgie” D. Cat.

Idgie soon became my constant companion. She would come when I’d call, jumping up on the bed at night to serve as a side pillow to me, or resting on my shoulder, back, or even firm against my head. She also preferred to knead herself a space at the foot of the bed — even staying there impatiently awaiting my return when I’d go on flights back east, leaving a ring of ginger-coloured fur as a reminder of how long she waited for me. Sometimes, though, I think she merely awaited my shirt, which she loved to be wrapped in while laying on the bed.

Idgie also proved herself to be a first class goof ball. While she did not like the fez nor the chicken hat we got her (and destroyed a beautiful amber, silver, and jet collar I once foolishly purchased for her), she did seem to love to lay on her back, feet in the air, awaiting a good, firm belly rub. She would also go nuts for catnip, kicking her chin with her hind legs when she got a good dose of the stuff. It was one of her favorite things, right up there with Friskie’s kitty snacks, which she would precariously balance herself on hind legs and stretch herself as far as she could, mouth first, to acquire.

To me, Idgie was the perfect cat. A blend of even temperament and downright loyalty I have never known from the feline genus before.

Roughly three or so weeks ago, in the evening, I noticed that idgie was walking a bit funny, limping on one of her hind legs. As she is an indoor cat — and not a climber — it was hard to imagine she could have so badly injured her leg to require a limp. We figured she had maybe pulled a muscle and would be right as rain in no time.

After a week, the limp persisted — and one of her forelimbs seemed to be “falling asleep” on her. We assumed it was overcompensation for the hind leg, and took her to our local vet. They could find nothing odd on her blood work nor X-Ray, and sent us home with some mild painkillers.

Three days later, she could no longer walk properly. She could sit up and drag herself along, pulling with her forelimbs and pushing with her hinds.

A follow-up appointment proved the worst. This was no ordinary injury: she was suffering from a neurological condition, brought on by either a brain tumor or brain lesion. There was nothing that could be done to save her. All this from what seemed, initially, to simply be a bad limp.

Her condition worsened even more, eventually taking her ability to move herself altogether. Bon and I would take turns comforting her, feeding her, and changing towels beneath her. Idgie was, you see, not simply some cat, but our companion, our friend, even perhaps our child.

Today, she is gone. She passed with both me and Bon there, ending what had become a very difficult existence in her last few days.

I will always remember her, from the day she first peered into our sliding glass door to her last breath. I will try to remember that she would not have had those ten years with us, and might not have had any time at all if she did not come into our lives — but instead found comfort and joy with us. It doesn’t make it any easier, really — but I can try to feel a little better because of it.

Safe journey, Idgie.

Cheers,
Gwen

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