R.I.P. Ashley 1987-2010

Sometime in September of 1987, I had an early morning appointment at the Salem, Virginia, VA hospital. I was parked out in the boonies lot, way out by the field that separated the VA campus from the main road. I was locking the car when I heard a tiny little meow, very insistent. Coming across the wet grass was this tiny, flea-bitten kitten, barely taller than the grass itself. She had so much flea dirt on her that I didn't know just then that she had a white bib, as you can certainly tell in this picture, taken in November of 1991.

I scooped her up, afraid she'd get run over in the parking lot, and took her in with me to my appointment. The nurses were kind enough to keep her while I saw the doctor and went to the pharmacy, and when I came back, she was feasting on someone's lunch.

I took her directly to our vet, because we had two other cats at the time, and it turned out that the vet was having some publicity stills taken for her new location. Somewhere, I still have the flyer with vet holding baby Ashley, who looked very bewildered at the time. I hope I can find it.

Ashley moved with us from Virginia to Iowa, where she loved the big house we had, and once caught a bat that had the misfortune of getting inside the house. We heard her racing up and down the hall upstairs, and suddenly she came running down the stairs, with something in her mouth. I thought it was a mouse. No, she had managed to swat this bat out of the air, and proudly brought it down to show us.

She moved again with us to Arkansas, to the temporary rent house. There, she and the Iowa barn cats we had picked up along the way loved to sit on top of the packing boxes and watch the birds. Our move to this house was a good one for her, and she spent many an hour sunning in the windows.

Once Dan retired, Ashley became his shadow. Anywhere he went, she was right behind him. In the past few months, we had seen her begin to slow down. She was rather deaf and pretty much blind, but she still could find the food bowl, no problem. All the way until last night. During the night, I heard her calling in a strange way, and when I went to check on her, she was sort of wandering around.

Dan and I went to a Memorial Day service downtown, and when we came home, Ashley was acting very strangely. She began to drool, and suddenly appeared to have no idea what was going on around her. We knew in our hearts this was it. I called our wonderful vet, and he met us at his office within minutes. Ashley had begun to have some convulsions, and by the time we were in the office, the vet said she was having neurological problems. We hugged her and said our goodbyes, and after she was still, we wrapped her in a blankie for Dr. Reed to take final care of her.

When a little cat like this has been a part of your life for so long, it's really hard to let go. Ashley, we loved you dearly. We will always remember you sitting still as a statue on the steps, not moving until we called your name, and you'd say "Hmmm?"

Ceiling Cat has certainly been waiting for you at the Purrly Gates. You earned it, sweetheart.