Tracy Tu Tu Wa Wa (1986 to 2003)

Posted on April 2, 2003 in Cats Grief Milestones

Tracy passed on a few minutes ago, in my lap, while I was chatting with friends on the computer. I placed her on an adjacent chair, wrapped in the towel. We had her for fourteen years. And I can give her the highest praise: she was a good cat.

Many people coveted Tracy. When we lived in an apartment complex in Palo Alto, everyone knew her and she treated every household as her own. One neighbor reported that she felt pressure on her chest as she was lying in her bed. “I woke up and there was this great big black cat!” It was Tracy, curling up with one of the many people she loved.

Tracy, like Ambrose, knew my moods and would be there to comfort me. We had a neighbor up in Palo Alto who, because Tracy liked to mew a lot, spread the rumor that we didn’t take proper care of her. (She weighed over twenty pounds at the time.) She made moves to take her over, saying that we were neglecting her for Ambrose and Virginia. Another neighbor, who was a veterinary nurse, spoke to me about this. Tracy walked up to me in the middle of conversation. I picked her up and she licked my beard. I began to cry. The rumors were quashed thereafter.

She came with us down to Southern California in 1999 — nearly four years ago. She cried all the way. After five hours, she went silent. We feared the worst, but kept driving. When we arrived at the Residence Inn (that’s another story), we brought out all the cages and opened them. Tracy bolted out of hers and jumped up on the bed, making herself comfortable immediately. “Nice place,” she seemed to say. “I like it here.”

Over the last year, I’ve noticed signs of her decline. It was getting harder for her to climb the stairs to the loft. Her belly bulged with a tumor and her legs bowed under the weight. This morning, she just stopped eating and drinking her cat milk. I told Lynn to spend some time with her this morning, to say her goodbyes. She left her in a comfortable spot in the hallway. When I got up, I checked her, ate my dinner, and then brought her in here.

She died as I said, in my lap, crying only once, near the end. The ride down to the vet — she was always terrified of cars — would have killed her. So we kept her in comfort. I shall miss my Lamikin, my Tubby Kitty: she was a good cat.