Extra - Goodbye Gansey Girl

There is intro here. No sugar coating this. Gansey, who was the dearest cat I've ever had, was hit and killed on Monday night, June 19th, and I am heartbroken. I was unprepared for this level of grief that I have never experienced, not even when my parents died. She left a hole in my life that I could never have anticipated. I cried for days and am still prone to tearing up twelve days later. This post is dedicated to Gansey Girl.

Gansey was my constant companion for the past seven years - from when she woke me up and demanded that I turn on the water in the tub until I went to bed at night, with her sleeping on the opposite pillow. She followed me around, both inside and outside. She had her hidey holes that she slept in during the day while I was working but if I was sitting in my chair, she was on the back or sitting on the arm like in this picture. She was bonded to me rather than another cat and it showed.

I chalk this up to the fact that she was bottle fed so thought of humans as her momma. She walked right up to anyone who came into the house and demanded to be petted. Any other cat I've ever had, and I've had a few, ran and hid. That was special.

She had the softest fur I've ever felt on a cat. She was the only round eyed cat I've ever had and that took some getting used to when I first got her. I called her my freaky round eyed kitty. I also called her little baby kitty even when she was far from little and pesty baby Gans.

She had a super loud meow that could clean your sinuses and wasn't afraid to use it. She was very insistent when she wanted something.

She was constantly on the watch, sitting in the cat bed I knitted for her looking out the back window or jumping onto the back of the recliner to look out the front window. During lockdown, I would put on bird TV on YouTube and she'd spend hours watching the birds on the screen, sometimes stretching up to try to reach them.

She wasn't perfect. She chewed anything knitted she could get her hands on - from hand knitted socks to clothes left on the bed by mistake. I always left something 100% cotton on the bed for her to chew (usually something she had already gotten her teeth into) so she'd concentrate on that. When it got too holey, she'd find something in my craft room in the basement, like a felted sweater.

She didn't like being picked up and it was a trial getting her to the vet. I'd have to pick her up by the back of her neck to get her in the carrier. She didn't like bacon, like no cat ever, and was picky about the milk left from my cereal and I never knew if she'd drink it or turn her nose up at it.

I took her presence for granted and when she died and was gone, I missed her everywhere. I couldn't sleep because she wasn't on the bed. Sitting in my comfy chair just reminded me that she wasn't sleeping on the back of it. She wasn't there to eat the wet food I put out in the morning so I was washing it down the sink before bed every night. I looked for her everywhere for days, gasping each time I realized she was gone forever.

The tears I cried left me dehydrated and exhausted. It's been 12 days since she died and I still go out multiple times a day to look at her grave. And while I'm not sobbing uncontrollably like the first couple of days, I tear up all the time. I know I will never have another cat like her and it just makes me sad. She was one in a million. RIP Miss Gansey Girl.