The Ghost of Raisin

My kitty Scooby is turning into an old man.  It's a change that's been creeping up on me for a while now, but this evening I noticed it again.  He hopped up onto the bed next to me, and for a fraction of a moment I mistook him for another, my long departed friend Raisin.

I loved Raisin dearly.  He was born in my childhood basement, and my sister and I met him when he was only hours old.  He loved us unconditionally, rowdy children though we were.  He was technically my sister's pet but, when he was thirteen and she was still living at home, she realized that I could give him better care than he had with her.  He had a severe upper respiratory illness at the time and she couldn't afford a vet visit (nor would my parents foot the bill for one.)  So she asked me to care for him on her behalf.  I was to become his hospice nurse.  He had been frail since kittenhood and we expected him to falter soon.

Raisin instead lived another three years.  He quickly claimed my blue velour armchair and was often found curled in a warm little ball there, sleeping soundly.  Extremely soundly in fact, because we discovered that over the years he had become stone deaf.  His surprise when I woke him for dinnertime was classically adorable until the end.  It was the most exciting part of his day, and he ate with gusto every time.

When his end did come, it was tragic.  He had been having small seizures, but they were thought to be manageable.  He recovered each time within a few minutes.  Then one evening after seizing he didn't feel like having dinner.  Mildly worried I decided to let him sleep upstairs with me, so that I would hear should he have a problem in the night.  Early in the morning I woke to find him weak and pale.  He had urinated on himself.  I knew he wasn't well off and I called my sister to meet me at the vet's office.  After he had been examined our fears were confirmed.  His heart had failed and he was slowly dying.  We gave him the last kindness we could, and let the doctor take his pain away.

It's amazing what an imprint Raisin left on my heart.  It's been four years since I've held him, but I still miss his gentle cuddles and unassuming ways.  And every once in a while, like tonight, I expect to find him with me again.  It's like his little ghost is still asleep in my blue chair, and I've just been waiting for him to wake up.