Losing Princess

 My cat is going to die. 

We are all going to die, but my cat is about 9 years old and about 30 hours ago we learned that she has an aggressive metastatic mammary cancer. We began the morning thinking we would be fortunate if we have another month with her, and at the rate things are going, we are hoping she is comfortable for one more week.

Princess joined our family when Niblet was 5. I need to review this blog to see the exact timeline, but I am almost certain she came to us after my fourth miscarriage.  Niblet wanted a baby sister. Our friends had a young cat. "Please can we take her?" begged my tiny human.

I started exploring a cat for our home during a pregnancy that would culminate in of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. I was pregnant with Celine.

And yet it happened, she came into my home when friends who had taken her in from their alley suggested to me that she would be happier in my house than with their boy cats. They boys were bullies, the swiped at her and ate her food. She was a calm kitty. Perhaps Niblet would enjoy a pet?

 I had experienced four losses in two years. I knew even after saying goodbye to Celine that I would be pregnant again.  I did not imagine I would be pregnant 5 more times. And I certainly never imaged that a beautiful tabby with RBF would sleep by my abdomen during each and every one of those future pregnancies.

We adopted Princess for Niblet, but she is ultimately mine. I'm her human. I'm pretty sure I blogged about it in 2015. I don't think there's anther cat on the planet better suited to this home. The chill way she tolerates Samantha is something to behold. Her face looks like a judgmental lady of a certain age who lunches, but she is kindness incarnate. 

I have so many thoughts about losing her now, as a pandemic winds down, as we all process our grief, as I realize how fortunate I am to still be working from home where she has had me all day, every day.