Much like her namesake – Samantha’s lookalike cousin on Bewitched – Serena was rambunctious.
She joined our little family, myself and my calico Clairee, about two years ago. Someone moved out of the neighborhood and left her behind. She was a skinny little black cat when I first saw her, but she had a friendly, affectionate personality.
She started hanging out around where I live. People began feeding her so, of course, she didn’t leave. When she began poking out on the sides, we all thought she was pregnant.
I hesitated about taking her in. Clairee had been with me some ten years at the time and she’s the jealous type. It was just Clairee and me after Zipper passed a few years earlier. She’s quite possessive and doesn’t much like me petting other cats.
I put a food bowl outside for the little black kitty. I filled it with water and food every day before leaving for work and when I returned home. Others fed her during the day but she ate anyway.
One day the food bowl disappeared. It upset me because it was Zipper’s bowl. Silly to attach sentiment to a cat’s food bowl but I did.
I knew exactly who took the bowl. My neighbor – a redneck bully – didn’t like cats. So he stole the bowl and threw it away. The confrontation wasn’t nice. He threatened to set his two big dogs on the little cat.
That was not about to happen.
That very day, a very cold day in January, I opened my door and Serena had a new home. I have no idea what her name was before but she took to the name Serena.
Clairee didn’t take to it very well, though. She intimidated Serena who found hiding places I didn’t know existed. Behind the refrigerator. On top of a tall bookshelf (really, how do cats do that?) Behind a large antique radio. She was solid black with gold eyes; she could hide just lying in the shadows.
I constantly shooed her off the kitchen table. Picked up things she knocked over. Every time I changed the cat litter she was usually the one waiting patiently to use it. Drinking from the toilet bowl instead of the fresh water in the bowl in the kitchen, no matter how many times I chased her away from the toilet bowl.
I didn’t mind, though. Cats are wonderfully independent and sometimes quite strong-headed. I remind myself to be more like my cats every day.
It took quite a while – almost a year in fact – before Clairee stopped intimidating Serena and began to accept her. I walked into my bedroom one day to see both of them lying atop the bed. A nice surprise since Clairee chased Serena off the bed each time she got on it. I was ecstatic to see Clairee had drawn some sort of truce.
Kittens never arrived. Apparently, Serena was just filling out. I was both relieved and disappointed.
Eventually, both cats ended up sleeping with me on the bed. I had to change my sleeping habits and sleep on my back so Serena could lie on my stomach while Clairee slept between my feet. Awkward for me but I got used to it.
Amazing how these little critters have the power to change your habits.
Serena’s time came much too soon. She stopped eating and drinking a couple of weeks ago. And there was nothing I could do for her. I coaxed her to drink a little water and some juice I drained from canned tuna. But that was it.
Her last few days I carried her, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, everywhere I went. I kept her in my lap as I sat before my computer, desperately searching for a job, sending out resume after resume.
When Serena’s time came I was on the phone with my best friend. She stayed on the phone with me as I bawled like a baby, stroked Serena to offer whatever small comfort I could give her, and let her go.
I am wracked with guilt that I could not do more for this sweet little cat, bawling even as I write this. It grieves me that the primary driving force in this world is money. No one would look at her, treat her or even euthanize her without money. And I simply don’t have any at the moment.
Friends remind me that I gave Serena a good, loving home. She never went hungry (my cats eat even if I don’t). She was protected from the elements and from vicious dogs. And she was loved.
Pets are more trustworthy than most people I’ve known. They are the ones capable of giving the unconditional love most people only talk about.
Serena’s spirit is gone but her memory remains. Along with the memories of numerous other cats and dogs I have had the honor of being loved by. She is at peace. And I must find the strength to make peace with myself.
Life goes on.
That is the most painful truth for those of us left behind.
She joined our little family, myself and my calico Clairee, about two years ago. Someone moved out of the neighborhood and left her behind. She was a skinny little black cat when I first saw her, but she had a friendly, affectionate personality.
She started hanging out around where I live. People began feeding her so, of course, she didn’t leave. When she began poking out on the sides, we all thought she was pregnant.
I hesitated about taking her in. Clairee had been with me some ten years at the time and she’s the jealous type. It was just Clairee and me after Zipper passed a few years earlier. She’s quite possessive and doesn’t much like me petting other cats.
I put a food bowl outside for the little black kitty. I filled it with water and food every day before leaving for work and when I returned home. Others fed her during the day but she ate anyway.
One day the food bowl disappeared. It upset me because it was Zipper’s bowl. Silly to attach sentiment to a cat’s food bowl but I did.
I knew exactly who took the bowl. My neighbor – a redneck bully – didn’t like cats. So he stole the bowl and threw it away. The confrontation wasn’t nice. He threatened to set his two big dogs on the little cat.
That was not about to happen.
That very day, a very cold day in January, I opened my door and Serena had a new home. I have no idea what her name was before but she took to the name Serena.
Clairee didn’t take to it very well, though. She intimidated Serena who found hiding places I didn’t know existed. Behind the refrigerator. On top of a tall bookshelf (really, how do cats do that?) Behind a large antique radio. She was solid black with gold eyes; she could hide just lying in the shadows.
I constantly shooed her off the kitchen table. Picked up things she knocked over. Every time I changed the cat litter she was usually the one waiting patiently to use it. Drinking from the toilet bowl instead of the fresh water in the bowl in the kitchen, no matter how many times I chased her away from the toilet bowl.
I didn’t mind, though. Cats are wonderfully independent and sometimes quite strong-headed. I remind myself to be more like my cats every day.
It took quite a while – almost a year in fact – before Clairee stopped intimidating Serena and began to accept her. I walked into my bedroom one day to see both of them lying atop the bed. A nice surprise since Clairee chased Serena off the bed each time she got on it. I was ecstatic to see Clairee had drawn some sort of truce.
Kittens never arrived. Apparently, Serena was just filling out. I was both relieved and disappointed.
Eventually, both cats ended up sleeping with me on the bed. I had to change my sleeping habits and sleep on my back so Serena could lie on my stomach while Clairee slept between my feet. Awkward for me but I got used to it.
Amazing how these little critters have the power to change your habits.
Serena’s time came much too soon. She stopped eating and drinking a couple of weeks ago. And there was nothing I could do for her. I coaxed her to drink a little water and some juice I drained from canned tuna. But that was it.
Her last few days I carried her, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, everywhere I went. I kept her in my lap as I sat before my computer, desperately searching for a job, sending out resume after resume.
When Serena’s time came I was on the phone with my best friend. She stayed on the phone with me as I bawled like a baby, stroked Serena to offer whatever small comfort I could give her, and let her go.
I am wracked with guilt that I could not do more for this sweet little cat, bawling even as I write this. It grieves me that the primary driving force in this world is money. No one would look at her, treat her or even euthanize her without money. And I simply don’t have any at the moment.
Friends remind me that I gave Serena a good, loving home. She never went hungry (my cats eat even if I don’t). She was protected from the elements and from vicious dogs. And she was loved.
Pets are more trustworthy than most people I’ve known. They are the ones capable of giving the unconditional love most people only talk about.
Serena’s spirit is gone but her memory remains. Along with the memories of numerous other cats and dogs I have had the honor of being loved by. She is at peace. And I must find the strength to make peace with myself.
Life goes on.
That is the most painful truth for those of us left behind.