Annabelle

Back up to 10 or so years ago...  I live in a neighborhood where you don't see a lot of homeless cats.  Actually, none at all.  Until Annabelle. I started seeing this muted calico around my house, and of course, I always immediately put food out when I see a cat outdoors thinking its starving!  I did, and noticed her coming around a lot. Come winter, I decided to prop my porch door open at night, with the food inside, and put a blanket on the porch chair in case Annabelle wanted to come in to sleep and get out of the storms.  Five years later, not only did Annabelle have food and water, and a comfy chair to sleep on, but now she had a heating pad under the blanket on the chair for those frigid temps when winter arrived.  Each year this went on and on.  And each year, she would not let me get close to her.  At all.

I would occasionally hear from other neighbor's the street over, about Annabelle.  They began to call her Annabelle, as I had named her years ago.  I would hear reports about Annabelle, how she went to this neighbor's house, and that neighbor's house, and how this one guy was leaving food out for her.  

This past year, I have seen Annabelle a lot less.  When I did, I noticed her walk was a bit slower, and she looked a bit disheveled, like she wasn't grooming herself much.  But she was still hungry, and would sit under the bushes waiting for me to put the food down - the wet food to be exact - she loved the wet food - the porch door was shut a lot due to having so many kittens on it this year - they took over the porch.

Yesterday, our neighbor had come over to ask if we had a carrier, as other people had seen Annabelle in the middle of the road not moving, and when she did, she looked like her leg was bothering her.  So of course, Janine, the Cat Lady was the first person they thought of, and they brought her to me.  This was the very first time I was able to touch Annabelle.  She never ever allowed me to get close to her.  We rushed Annabelle to the vet.

The vet stated she was 10+ years old, and that she was very thin, very dehydrated, and very very sick.  I made the hard decision.  The vet agreed that it would be the best thing for Annabelle.   Annabelle went to kitty heaven yesterday.  It was the best thing for her.  I take comfort in knowing she didn’t have to go through another difficult winter.  

Every time we love something we give an irretrievable part of ourselves to it. If the loved object disappears - and in time they always do - we are left empty and weak, hollow and scoured out like a melon. For a time we feel useless (as I do today). We vow NEVER to love ANYTHING ever again, never to make ourselves vulnerable to this sense of loss, this agony, this ripping out of your heart and your guts, and your very soul feels and holds onto the pain. It's too much, it's too much, I'll NEVER ever let myself feel this way again... 

As this has happened to me more than once in my life, I know I'll come out the other end of this awful place and there will be some light there, dim and watery...but at least the darkness will be gone. And then I know I'll do it again, probably. I'll hear a mew or see a sweet face at the curb or some little thing will creep up behind me when I'm at one of my shelters and I'll smile at it and scratch behind its ears, and I'll open my heart up once more to the unselfish eternal love that only comes when you accept the risk of loss and pain. I guess there's a message there: Nothing is free in this life. Love received comes at a price, and there are dangers inherent in opening up the heart. Right now I think it would be better to feel nothing...and have nothing and no one...then there could be no sadness. But, of course, then there could be no joy ever, either.

Annabelle lived life her way.  There will always be a spot occupied in our hearts and memories by Annabelle.

ANNABELLE