Some very sad news

Celia, whose translucent amber eyes adourn the tops of my blog pages, passed away yesterday.

Jenn at Toronto Cat Rescue had the kindness to think of me and delicately let me know straight away, even though I'm away from home and even though I was just another foster home for Celia that she'd had up until three weeks ago. She was right to think that's not how I saw it though.

Apparently Celia fell ill at her new foster home last week, a week or two after being spayed. She was taken to the vet where she remained on IV until she could fight no more. I'm told the vet felt Celia was jaundiced and had pneumonia. Jenn thinks her little body just couldn't handle recovering from the spaying operation.

When one of my beloved cats who I'd grown up with passed away a few years ago, it felt like a small part of me withered inside, but I nonetheless at the same time found comfort in that he'd enjoyed a reasonably long but certainly happy life. I've been troubled by the sad realisation that I cannot find similar comfort in Celia's passing. Any shred of comfort is as tenuous as her eventual grip on life.

I don't know much about Celia's history except that she spent longer than she should have in a metal cage at a high kill shelter. When dropping her off to me from the shelter, Beth observed from Celia's behaviour that this one year old cat definitely must have been loved at some point, words which still resonate with me. I'll never know how she lost this love, but her never-to-be-won battle to properly regain it I suspect will continue to quietly haunt me.

Within days of having her, one name came to me out of the blue with curious gusto: 'Celia', a name so fitting for a cat demure and fervid in equal measures, so reflective of her playful nature and unquestionable femininity. My Ceeli, my Celi-Cat, my Sea Leaf, my little madame who so tenaciously asserted her self-assured, capricious status in the household for the entire three months that she was with us. So strong, so obstinate that I never imagined her to ever be anything other than an unfaltering constant. An admirable mother to her kittens, a grateful and unforgettable houseguest to myself and Matthew. A familiar radiant face in the back of my mind and memory, locked firmly in the only place she will continue to exist to me.

Thank you, Celia. Thank you for making my thoughts delve deeper into the idea and secrets of motherhood than any human being has. Thank you for fighting on long enough to make sure that Tilly, Elliot, Oscar and Mini-Cat were raised in the best way possible and in full health. Thank you for accepting an orphaned and sickly Rosey as one of your own and being the mum he never had. Thank you for presenting me with a challenge I never thought I'd take on, let alone succeed in, yet did. Thank you for making me realise that sometimes a cat's just got to have their own way. Thank you for doing all the funny, quirky things that will always remind me of you and make me smile even through my tears. Thank you for inspiring me to write a song about your awkward but entertaining ways. I must finish it some day. Thank you for opening my eyes to the struggles that stray and abandoned cats and kittens face and how it's possible to make a difference.

Most of all, thank you for being a gorgeous little black, yellow-eyed kitty and giving me a reason to pick you in the first place. You may never have found a forever home, but you'll always have a forever home in my heart.