Loki-Bean
Loki was born the day that I put my long term best friend - Nikki- dogger extrodinaire to sleep in 1999. To the day, actually. She was born the day I lost my best friend. 2 months later Sammi, Jen W, and I went to the humane society in Como Park to get "2 cats". I was determined that I would get one up to date on her shots, already fixed, etc.
Well, we ended up with 3 kittens. Tsuki, Dahli, and Loki. The oldest a week apart from the middle, and Loki the youngest. Loki was also the runt. I remember when we brought them home. Loki had curled up in my arms at the humane society, wrapped her front paws around my wrist as I was writing and promptly fell asleep and started snoring. Of course, Loki was neither spayed, nor up to date on her shots. But she stole my heart.
We got home that day and the 6 of us (3 humans, 3 cats) sat in the living room of our new apartment and tried to decide on names. I, being a mythology freak, pulled out my book of Gods and Goddesses, and started a trend I still go with today. Loki, even though female, responded almost immediately to the name. She became my "little Mischief".
And Oh, the trouble she'd get into. Sammi and I, when we get together still reminisce about little Mischief stealing someone's lunchmeat from in between her (Sam's) slices of bread. Tsuki liked to hide in the oven. Dahli was fond of above the cabinets. But loki? Hell naw, she was all over the place all the time. And sneaky as all nine hells. That cat could escape before you said boo.
I was determined with all the arrogance of a nineteen year old girl that Loki would be attached to me, not her abode so i would never have to leave her behind. That damned cat went everywhere with me. We went to the pet store, we traveled and visited people. She loved going for rides as long as she could lay next to me on the seat and not sit in the cat carrier.
She always was, and always will be my Little Miss with no fear.
Scott nicknamed her the Bean. So, she became the Loki-Bean. Over time she developed more nicknames. "Crotch-kitty" - for her favorite place to sleep in the bed. (Always between my legs - this eventually altered if I was on my side she slept on my shoulder or my hip). Oy-Oy (after we read The Dark Tower series by Stephen King), Lo-Lo, Little shit, Beaner. The names go on and on. But she was always our baby.
She was the brawler too. She didn't take shit from anyone. Who cared if she was only 8 lbs on a good day? Damned cat went up against dogs over 100lbs, scared the shit out of them and pranced around gleefully. She knew she was the shit and rubbed it in everyone's faces.
When she was a little over a year we returned home to live with my parents, Mitzi (my older cat) and Brandy (my german shepherd). Loki and Mitzi brawled about who ruled the roost, and I learned that that damned cat would come when I called her. Every damned time. And she brought me mice. Lots and lots of mice. She was the proud huntress.
Loki was my little dreamwatcher. She would sleep with me, on my shoulder usually, and if I was having a bad dream she was always there to slap me out of it. Literally. A paw across the face will do wonders to wake you up.
When my parents didn't want her in the house anymore, she lived with scott for a few years. It was during this stint we found out she had hereditary kidney disease. She wasn't even 2 years old. We fought for her, and for 4 months I wasn't sure if she was going to make it. We went to multiple vets and heard multiple things. The spooky part, they could only ever find one kidney. Physically, her other kidney - if it existed- was too small to be seen on xray or ultrasound. By the time we got her well again, they said her known kidney was at least 50% damaged, and weren't sure how long she'd last.
She showed everyone up though. My brilliant little mischief. She lived year after year, with only small starts where her kidneys would draw her down. Every illness scared me though, I never knew if I'd be able to pull her back. But time and time again we did. She mothered I don't know how many stray cats I brought home. And stray dogs. When we brought home valkyrie she gleefully scared the everloving bejebus out of that sweet demon dog of mine. To this day, if Loki talks Val obeys. Better than val obeys any human, that's for sure.
When I brought Peepit (Yes, I know, not named after a god or goddess, but his nickname is Buddha) home, he was a miserable wretch. She followed him around the house, kept him warm, and made him comfy. At least until he was on his own two feet. Then they weren't the best of friends, at least, not on the surface.
Little Mischief cuddled and played with Artemis when she came home, and stalked Thor endlessly and made him her own.
Out of all the cats I brought home, Loki always got on with Thor best. She and Artie had a truce. Loki was Queen, Artie was princess. Loki demanded and Artie bent to her will. But Loki taught Thor. She taught him how to open doors, flip locks, and escape.
When the critters and I moved this last spring, the other three hide, but Loki was out her tail twitched high and poofy exploring everything. Claiming everything. This was hers.
She was the greeter of the critter family. She made sure every guest had company at night, and were kept warm with her hospitality. She performed and made people laugh. She welcomed people into her home on her terms, but she was social like no other cat i've ever known.
This last fall she got sick again. She'd been getting sick yearly give or take for the last 4 years. Each time it's been harder than the previous one to pull her back. Never a big cat (8lbs when pudgy) every ounce she lost due to illness took at least 3-4 months to put back on her. Because of her history I've always kept a close eye on her and watched for her signs. I managed to get her to the vet at the beginning of the illness.
But she never snapped back. She's been yoyo'ing and her kidneys just never snapped back.
A week ago she started sneezing regularly, like she couldn't clear her nose.
A few days ago she started coughing.
And she became a skeleton.
Yesterday, after thinking long and hard about it, I decided to euthanize her today. So at 1230 this afternoon she was put quietly to sleep. She was sedated first, so I could hold her as she fell asleep. And she cuddled up to my neck and tucked her nose in before finally sleeping. I kept my promise to myself and to her, and I held her while she died.
I lost a little bit of my soul today. My others know something is up, but they're not sure what's going on. It's going to be a rough couple of days.
Rest Well, my little Loki-bean. I'll see you in the dreams.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
Well, we ended up with 3 kittens. Tsuki, Dahli, and Loki. The oldest a week apart from the middle, and Loki the youngest. Loki was also the runt. I remember when we brought them home. Loki had curled up in my arms at the humane society, wrapped her front paws around my wrist as I was writing and promptly fell asleep and started snoring. Of course, Loki was neither spayed, nor up to date on her shots. But she stole my heart.
We got home that day and the 6 of us (3 humans, 3 cats) sat in the living room of our new apartment and tried to decide on names. I, being a mythology freak, pulled out my book of Gods and Goddesses, and started a trend I still go with today. Loki, even though female, responded almost immediately to the name. She became my "little Mischief".
And Oh, the trouble she'd get into. Sammi and I, when we get together still reminisce about little Mischief stealing someone's lunchmeat from in between her (Sam's) slices of bread. Tsuki liked to hide in the oven. Dahli was fond of above the cabinets. But loki? Hell naw, she was all over the place all the time. And sneaky as all nine hells. That cat could escape before you said boo.
I was determined with all the arrogance of a nineteen year old girl that Loki would be attached to me, not her abode so i would never have to leave her behind. That damned cat went everywhere with me. We went to the pet store, we traveled and visited people. She loved going for rides as long as she could lay next to me on the seat and not sit in the cat carrier.
She always was, and always will be my Little Miss with no fear.
Scott nicknamed her the Bean. So, she became the Loki-Bean. Over time she developed more nicknames. "Crotch-kitty" - for her favorite place to sleep in the bed. (Always between my legs - this eventually altered if I was on my side she slept on my shoulder or my hip). Oy-Oy (after we read The Dark Tower series by Stephen King), Lo-Lo, Little shit, Beaner. The names go on and on. But she was always our baby.
She was the brawler too. She didn't take shit from anyone. Who cared if she was only 8 lbs on a good day? Damned cat went up against dogs over 100lbs, scared the shit out of them and pranced around gleefully. She knew she was the shit and rubbed it in everyone's faces.
When she was a little over a year we returned home to live with my parents, Mitzi (my older cat) and Brandy (my german shepherd). Loki and Mitzi brawled about who ruled the roost, and I learned that that damned cat would come when I called her. Every damned time. And she brought me mice. Lots and lots of mice. She was the proud huntress.
Loki was my little dreamwatcher. She would sleep with me, on my shoulder usually, and if I was having a bad dream she was always there to slap me out of it. Literally. A paw across the face will do wonders to wake you up.
When my parents didn't want her in the house anymore, she lived with scott for a few years. It was during this stint we found out she had hereditary kidney disease. She wasn't even 2 years old. We fought for her, and for 4 months I wasn't sure if she was going to make it. We went to multiple vets and heard multiple things. The spooky part, they could only ever find one kidney. Physically, her other kidney - if it existed- was too small to be seen on xray or ultrasound. By the time we got her well again, they said her known kidney was at least 50% damaged, and weren't sure how long she'd last.
She showed everyone up though. My brilliant little mischief. She lived year after year, with only small starts where her kidneys would draw her down. Every illness scared me though, I never knew if I'd be able to pull her back. But time and time again we did. She mothered I don't know how many stray cats I brought home. And stray dogs. When we brought home valkyrie she gleefully scared the everloving bejebus out of that sweet demon dog of mine. To this day, if Loki talks Val obeys. Better than val obeys any human, that's for sure.
When I brought Peepit (Yes, I know, not named after a god or goddess, but his nickname is Buddha) home, he was a miserable wretch. She followed him around the house, kept him warm, and made him comfy. At least until he was on his own two feet. Then they weren't the best of friends, at least, not on the surface.
Little Mischief cuddled and played with Artemis when she came home, and stalked Thor endlessly and made him her own.
Out of all the cats I brought home, Loki always got on with Thor best. She and Artie had a truce. Loki was Queen, Artie was princess. Loki demanded and Artie bent to her will. But Loki taught Thor. She taught him how to open doors, flip locks, and escape.
When the critters and I moved this last spring, the other three hide, but Loki was out her tail twitched high and poofy exploring everything. Claiming everything. This was hers.
She was the greeter of the critter family. She made sure every guest had company at night, and were kept warm with her hospitality. She performed and made people laugh. She welcomed people into her home on her terms, but she was social like no other cat i've ever known.
This last fall she got sick again. She'd been getting sick yearly give or take for the last 4 years. Each time it's been harder than the previous one to pull her back. Never a big cat (8lbs when pudgy) every ounce she lost due to illness took at least 3-4 months to put back on her. Because of her history I've always kept a close eye on her and watched for her signs. I managed to get her to the vet at the beginning of the illness.
But she never snapped back. She's been yoyo'ing and her kidneys just never snapped back.
A week ago she started sneezing regularly, like she couldn't clear her nose.
A few days ago she started coughing.
And she became a skeleton.
Yesterday, after thinking long and hard about it, I decided to euthanize her today. So at 1230 this afternoon she was put quietly to sleep. She was sedated first, so I could hold her as she fell asleep. And she cuddled up to my neck and tucked her nose in before finally sleeping. I kept my promise to myself and to her, and I held her while she died.
I lost a little bit of my soul today. My others know something is up, but they're not sure what's going on. It's going to be a rough couple of days.
Rest Well, my little Loki-bean. I'll see you in the dreams.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.