I'll miss you, Gwen.

Gwen January(?) 2000 - July 13, 2009

Eight years ago, around June of 2001, I was at PetSmart in Columbia, South Carolina, with my then-boyfriend. They had cats up for adoption as part of the company's program to find homes for homeless pets. There weren't many cats there at all, in fact I only saw a little gray kitten when I first went in to find myself a companion. I asked to hold the kitten, and while he was absolutely adorable, he was a bit too active for me and I feared he would be the sort to climb on things when I wasn't around. I returned him to the volunteer and was about to leave when my boyfriend said, "Hey, there's a cat over here."

I looked at the kennel he was pointing to, and a beautiful calico cat took one look at me as if to say, "You're taking me home today. I'm going back to sleep, ok now?" She turned her head back and promptly went back to sleep and I immediately told the volunteer, "I'll take that one." And that was how Gwen came into my life.

Gwen was there for me after my break-up with that boyfriend, and she was there through the therapy that came after said break-up and my parents' separation and divorce. She even made sure that I went to sleep in my bed as opposed to the couch in the living room, as odd as that sounds. She pretty much helped me hold it together at a time when everything else in my life was falling apart. She moved with me up to Maine to be with Tofu, she was there when I had a baby, and she returned with me back to South Carolina.

After Dad passed away last year, I moved into his house and left Gwen with Tofu since I knew she preferred being out there where she could roam in the woods surrounding that house. Well, I thought she did anyway. One night I was dropping Tofu off at his house and I had opened my door in the truck for some reason. Gwen ran up to the truck, jumped into the cab and promptly sat down on the center console next to me. I petted her head and said, "I'm going home, you sure you don't want to stay?" She looked up at me as if to say, again, "You're taking me with you, and I'm not taking no for an answer." And so she came here to live with me, the kiddo, Dad's cat, and Penny.

I tried to force her to be an indoor cat, but after winter, she starting insisting she be able to go outside to lounge in the sun on my back porch. Since she's got her claws and was accustomed to being outdoors, I allowed it, and she kept near the house at all times. I don't recall a time when she was outdoors that I couldn't go outside and find her right away. That's what she was doing today when I let the dogs out. In fact, I looked at her from my backdoor at one point before sunset while she was busy grooming herself and she seemed to say to me, "I'm not done yet. I'll come in when I'm ready." It wasn't an unusual occurence, so I let the dogs back inside and figured I'd call for Gwen later. Sadly, she didn't get to come back inside tonight.

Around 10:20 PM, I let the dogs outside once more. Immediately I knew something was wrong because I heard one of the neighbor's dogs (one I have had trouble with many times before) in my yard, barking. Penny and Sasha ran over to see what the fuss was, but both of them were afraid to go into the woods a few yards behind my house because it was dark and because the other dog was there (he's a bully). I looked back to the porch and noticed Gwen wasn't there - that was when I heard a cat yowl between the dog's barks. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I ran inside to get my flashlight. When I came back out, the dog ran away and my two dogs stuck by me as I walked over to where they had been. I was too late.

Gwen was alive, but dazed. I carried her back inside, saw no visible wounds on her, but she wasn't able to sit up or use her back legs at all. I called my mother who was able to get me the number for a 24-hour emergency clinic in Augusta, GA - an hour away. She was quiet the entire way there, and when I could, I'd reach into her travel crate and pet her. The way she nuzzled my hand, and the way she slept most of the way only made me worry more. When I got there a little after midnight, the vet told me what I feared. Nerve damage. She had lost control of the lower half of her body, and it was highly unlikely she would ever recover. I did the only thing I could do for her - the kindest thing I could do at that point. I signed a slip of paper, and then I said my good-byes.

I lost a great friend tonight. She's been a part of my life for so long and has seen me through so much hell. I thanked her for being there while I petted her. I told her I was sorry I didn't get there sooner, and that I loved her. I think she understood, and she let me pet her as I said good-bye. I cried, and I'm crying again as I write this. She deserved better than this, and I'm going to miss her so very much.

Good-bye, Gwen.