epic haiku

Goodbye Snowflake, my love.

Yesterday we buried our dearly departed cat, Snowflake. It was actually pretty emotional for me and my parents. It was, as both my mom and dad said, and end of an era.

When I was a little girl I begged and begged and begged for years for a white, long haired kitten after seeing a picture of one in a Christmas magazine. I wanted a white tiny little kitty cat with huge blue eyes. I think my begging started sometime around the age of four or five. When I was eight I got a treasure map for Christmas from "Santa" (always written in my dad's handwriting) and at the end of this map (that we had to use the car to get to) was a house. We went up to the house and knocked on the door and right inside the door were two perfect tiny little white kittens with red ribbons around their necks. Perfect tiny beautiful little creatures. One for me, and one for Joannah.

I named mine immediately. It had to be Snowball because Mandie's kitty's name was Snowball in my favorite books at the time. I even named one of my dolls Cecilia after Mandie's best friend. My sister, Jo, immediately named her cat Sarah, which was her favorite name at the time and I think all of her dolls were named Sarah at some point that year. The kittens were still dependant on their mother, so we couldn't get them for another week. I went home with a high feelings I don't think I had experienced since I was given a Nutcracker for my fifth Christmas (so I could, you know, go to the magical ballet land with him).

A week later when we picked up the Snowball and Sarah my sister announced that she had changed her mind, her kitty was now to be called Snowflake. No amount of my reasoning would change her mind. I was eight, so my sister was five. My sister was just as stubborn back then as she is today about what she believes and wants. No, she said, it would not be confusing to have two practically identical (well, completely to anyone other then my family) white cats names Snowball and Snowflake. No, she was in no way copying me. No, she was not trying to steal my thunder (what if Monica had been the first born?).

My fondest memory was watching Christmas/ New Years specials with my tiny tiny kitty sleeping in the palm of my hand (and my hands were small). There was also the time the kittens got lost on the inside of our walls. Learning that they would not respond appropriately to the leashes... ever. Dressing them up in our doll clothes. Through this we slowly got to know their different personalities. Snowball always looked out the window, wanting to be free to roam and explore. Snowflake was incredibly adaptable, loving and patient in all situations... and she liked to stick her head in our armpits when snuggling... which was weird.

When we moved to Michigan when I was almost ten we had a harrowing ride from Medina to Midland. It was the first move for both my sister and I. It was exciting and heartbreaking. The cats did not like the car. Snowball literaly ripped her cardboard carrying box to shreds. I couldn't figure out why my cat was so unable to get on board with the family. Snowflake was fine, but upset by her sisters extreme behavior. Our puppy dog, Samantha also seemed pissed off by Snowball. Samantha got along great with Snowflake though.

A few months after moving to Michigan my cat ran away. It seemed that the wooded place we moved to was just a little to much for her. We never saw her again. Snowflake became the only cat, and within two short years, our only pet when Samantha took her walk into the sunset, literally, she walked off one night and never came back. Some dogs have a sense when they are going to die and go off alone. I believe this is what Samantha did because of our connection (yes, on a level I am completely serious when I say connection, I was very close to my dog) and the extended eye contact she gave me right before she left.

Snowflake was fifteen when she died. She survived Snowball, Samantha, Istas (my albino rabbit we had for a few years in my teens), all of my turtles (a boxer and a painted one that bit me on the chin), frogs, snails (Sydney the snail, I loved him), fish (including my precious Google-Eyes). She survived all the drama of my family in the 90's, my sister and my teen years. She almost made it through my sisters first year of college. She was here for half of my parents marriage to date. She was a loving comfort whenever we came home, and always strutted like a princess in front of our car when we would try to pull into the garage. She died in her sleep in her sleeping box. When we opened to bury her I burst into tears. She was always understanding and kind, even when I became extremely allergic to her and wasn't able to hold her without "preparing" myself to itch like crazy. Her meow was part of what made this our home. I miss her already and will love her forever.