I think Big Woo is gone –
But I don’t really know for sure.
Not only do I not know –
There is little I can do.
Big Woo in Her Bigger Days
Big Woo arrived at my mother’s house care of the animal shelter.
Mom had lost her cat and my sister-in-law was visiting.
Big Woo was the only cat that was not under quarantine – pink eye, I think.
My sister-in-law, in her inimitable way said, “Well, do you want her or not?”
Big Woo - quite little still and still called Camille -
Raced around the circle of rooms downstairs –
Always running up the back of the upholstered rocker –
And tipping it over. She was proud of herself.
Mom had always had Persians – and Big Woo was a shorthair.
Another kitty showed up at the back door not long afterwards.
And Big Woo was shuttled off into the backdrop of my mother’s affections.
Betsy had blue eyes and soft fur.
When we finally had to move my mother because of Alzheimer’s –
The kitties were literally dragged from the house.
Ten hours later, Big Woo was pulled from the van.
She peed on the person’s jacket – and was slammed to the ground.
Big Woo was always hungry.
Kitties and doggies who go without food often are.
And people always hated her for her incessant demands for food.
Kicking at her and yelling.
My Mom came out West to my house for her last two years.
And her kitties came with her, of course.
She would talk to them like children,
“Now you girls come upstairs right this minute!”
My kitty, Stinkums, was none too thrilled.
She would play chase with Big Woo,
But she absolutely loathed Betsy.
(Stinkums is a tomboy and Betsy is a Miss Priss.)
Big Woo began to let me in.
I would put catnip down in the entry hall –
And she would roll over an purr deeply.
Deeply because she weighed 22 pounds.
Even though she had been declawed,
If a dog came into the yard –
She would puff up to the size of a mountain lion –
And light out after the terrified hound.
She was fearless.
Big Woo was never lovey-dovey.
Occasionally she would sit in your lap –
Or right next to you in an easy chair.
And purr. Especially if she thought food was coming.
At night she was perfectly content to sleep by your feet.
Or, maybe, in the crook of your legs.
Always attentive to when you got up in the morning.
And offering assistance if you slept too late.
In recent years she began to lose weight – rapidly.
I suspected hyperthyroidism – but had no money.
Finally when I did have the money for testing, it was confirmed.
But the medicine was worse than the illness.
So the number of food bowls on the kitchen floor multiplied –
From six or eight to a dozen or more.
Fancy feast and chewy treats.
Deli turkey and her favorite - deli roast chicken.
Whole, thank you.
During the past year I have been taking Big Woo
Back and forth each month from Wyoming to Montana.
Betsy, too. Stinkums was miserable in Montana so she stayed.
In a pick-up truck.
No carrier – because the kitties hated it.
An occasional boo-boo – even with a cat box.
People don’t seem to want to ride in my truck??
As the school term came to a close,
I asked my housemate in Wyoming to keep all three.
So I could do a spring cleaning of the little place in Montana –
And get some sleep during finals.
(Big Woo had me up by 4:30 every morning – no alarm clock needed.)
I warned my housemate that Big Woo was tough.
That she was hungry all the time and insistent.
On the way back to Wyoming, she stretched out right next to me.
She was delighted to be back on the deck and in the grass.
And she zoomed down the stairs each morning at dawn.
With me shuffling, half-awake, behind.
On Wednesday evening I called to check up.
Big Woo was driving my housemate crazy.
I tried to encourage him and laugh about her foibles.
An hour later he called and said that she was gone.
That he had let her outside and she was nowhere to be seen.
I said I would call again in the morning.
Thursday morning, there was still no sign of her.
Yes, she was eighteen going on nineteen –
So I thought that she may have gone off to die.
But she had been so full of life just a few days before.
I thought about driving down -
Even though it was during exams and graduation.
But my housemate assured me he would do whatever he could.
Yet he didn’t seem terribly concerned.
And he talked about the other cats.
I didn’t drive down.
I made a mistake.
Come to find out he didn’t even look in the garage.
He didn’t call the animal shelter.
Yes, I know she was old and frail.
And, most likely, she did choose to go.
But I will never know.
And I didn’t make that last effort.
I sense that in the end of her life –
She was treated much as she was at the beginning.
And I am heartsick.