Day of the Dead

Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead, in English) is a Mexican celebration of one's ancestors on November 1 and 2.  It is believed "that the gates of Heaven are opened at midnight on October 31, and the spirits of all deceased children are allowed to reunite with their families for 24 hours.  On November 2, the spirits of the adults come down to enjoy the festivities..."  source

I bought this little figure at Target last month.

I take time during Day of the Dead to remember and celebrate the critters that have been part of our family and have passed on.  Each is precious.

Murphy, the gentle giant who taught me to love dogs.

Cindy.  Still my best Christmas present ever.

Amy.  Barn cat, turned house cat, born deaf ... and she never knew that that was supposed to be a handicap.

Emma.  The precious soul who started my journey into the wonderful world of Greyhounds.

Maggie.  My miracle survivor cat.  The friendliest cat ever.

Daniel.  The dog who picked me.  

Kimba.  The Queen of Hartwood.

... and Winnie.  What can I say about this wonderful little dog ... I adored her.

I gathered these photos of some of my precious critters, and each of them made me smile.  Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.  I remember each of them with love, and joy, and I am grateful for their presence in our family.

On this final day of Dia de los Muertos, take a moment to remember your precious loved ones, whether they're human or otherwise.  Be still, and I'll bet you can feel them nearby.
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If you'd like to read a lovely, short article about Day of the Dead, click HERE.

Goodbye, Sweet Kimba

I first introduced you to Kimba, our outdoor cat, in THIS post.  Since then, her health has been declining, slowly and steadily.  Even at her advanced estimated age of 18 years old, she had a fantastic quality of life ... eating well, bright eyed and interested, greeting all of the humans who came to her porch. 

Yesterday morning, she was lying in the grass in one of her usual spots, but she didn't look like she was sleeping peacefully like she usually is.  I picked her up, and she struggled a bit (she doesn't like being carried).  I carried her to the porch to check her over, and when I sat her down, her back legs wouldn't support her weight.

 I settled Kimba into her heated box on the porch, and I went inside to get the phone to call our veterinarian.  I promise all our pets that I will never allow them to suffer.  The final ride in the car, with Kimba wrapped in a towel cradled in my lap, is one of the most heart-breaking things I know.  It is the ultimate kindness, though, and I bear the pain to make sure that my pets don't have to. 

Kimba was the Queen of Hartwood, the cat who came with our house when we bought it in 2002, and I cannot imagine not having her here.  She sat on the porch, or in the garden, surveying her domain and inspecting whatever was happening.  She came to our relationship frightened and distrustful ... and she left, sitting on my lap cradled in my arms, as a trusting member of the family, secure in the knowledge that she was loved.

Kimba's favorite place to nap was a sunny spot in the rose bed on the south side of our house.  I think this is the perfect spot to put her ashes.  She is a part of this place, and here she shall stay.

Rest in peace, sweet Kimba.  I miss you already.

Queen of All She Surveys

Visitors here are usually greeted by Kimba, our outdoor cat.  I tell folks that she conveyed with the house, when we bought it in 2002.

She was very wary of us, and all other humans in the beginning ... for a long time, in fact.  It took two years before I could get close enough to her to touch her.  I would sit quietly on the porch, beside her food dish, so she became comfortable with my presence.  Gradually, I could get closer and closer to her ... until she would finally let me pet her.  It was such an accomplishment!

I was told by the previous owners of our house that Kimba came here in 1996, and that "she was old then" ... whatever that means.  I take it to mean that she was an adult cat at the time, a minimum of three years old.  Doing a quick bit of math, we calculate that Kimba has been here for 15 years, which makes her at least 18 years old!  Our veterinarian concurs with this estimate.  What a ripe old age this is for an outdoor cat!

She spotted me, and she's coming over for a hug.

Until a couple of years ago, Kimba was quite a hunter ... she didn't care for the heads of her prey, though, and I would find random severed heads around the house from time to time.  Her hearing is pretty much gone now, so hunting really isn't an option anymore.  I think she did it mostly for sport and because of instinct, because we have always kept fresh food and water out for her at all times.

Kimba is a fixture here at Hartwood Manor.  She has shelter with a heated bed to stay warm and dry in the winter, and access to our cool garage in the heat of summer.  Bringing her into the house to live has never been an option, because the outdoors is her domain and it is where she is happiest.  She sleeps on the porch most of the time now, but I catch her prowling around from time to time ... as if she's checking up on the subjects in her kingdom. 

At her age, we know that every day with Kimba is a gift.  Her health is incredibly good considering how old she is.  (She had surgery to remove a mass on her face in early spring, and she handled both the surgery and the recovery like a cat half her age.)  Everything has a lifespan, though, and it just won't be the same here without her when her time comes.  Fortunately, it looks like we won't have to deal with that anytime soon.