Happy Birthday Betsey & Ross

Yes, yes, yes. I know Betsey and Ross died just over three months ago.

But today would be their 16th birthdays and I can't celebrate the Fourth of July and not think of them and all the joy they brought into my life for just under 16 years.

Ross enjoyed being a talker. He had a lot to say and never shied away from telling me what was on his mind. Although fireworks weren't his thing, he loved that everyone took July 4th to celebrate him. Ross would also want to know why he wasn't getting a car for his birthday. The answer that he was a cat and cats don't drive didn't really cut it.

Betsey knew her own beauty, but was never conceited about it. She loved a good party as much as anyone and loved celebrating her birthday.  She would enjoy extra cat nip and a good nap before putting her brother in his place.

Happy Birthday Betsey and Ross. I miss celebrating you today and hope you're having a big ole bash in Kitty Heaven.

Zoey and Sammy Go to the Vet

Yesterday was Sammy and Zoey's first visit to my vet, Dr. Nick Guedet at March Animal Hospital. They've previously been to the vet, but that was when they were still part of the Illinois Animal Rescue. They had not been to my vet yet.

I haven't seen my vet since I said good-bye to Betsey and Ross and was excited to share my babies with them because I knew all the techs and everyone in the front office would ooh and ahh over Sammy and Zoey. And I knew they would get the best care money could buy. I love the fact that I have a relationship dating back almost 12 years with March Animal Hospital. They know me and how I care for my pets and continuing the relationship felt good.

But I wondered if I would still be able to feel Betsey and Ross when I walked in the door, given all the time they'd been patients there and how many times in the last few months we'd all walked through the doors together.

From the moment Sammy, Zoey and I walked in, a huge fuss was made over them and believe me, they ate up all the attention. They purred loudly and pranced around their crate with so much pride, as though to say, "We know we're cute and we knew you'd think so too!" It all felt really good to me too.

And then I was placed in a room for their exam. A tech started to place us in the room where I put down Betsey and Ross and the second my feet crossed the threshold, I started to cry big tears. I tried to pretend I wasn't, but it was simply a moment I wasn't expecting. I wasn't expecting that moment. But here's what I love about March Animal Hospital. The tech saw immediately that I was upset and knew why, so she moved me. I know she didn't realize which room Betsey and Ross died in and I wasn't at all upset with her. Frankly, she couldn't have been sweeter. I'm sure that one day I'll be able to walk into that room again and not feel overwhelmed by the presence of Betsey and Ross, but it's going to take a little while.

Once the exam got started Sammy and Zoey did terrific. They are both very healthy and well-adjusted. In the past month, Sammy has gone from weighing 2.9 pounds to 4.25 pounds! Zoey weighed 2.3 pounds at the beginning of May and now weighs 3.56 pounds! They both have all their baby teeth and they took their shots like champs.

All in all, it felt really good to be back at my vet for a delightful reason. It helps make the sadness that I still feel, a little less sad. Maybe Betsey and Ross needed to go when they did because they knew Sammy and Zoey would need a loving home and before I could give it to them, I needed a little while to mourn.

Sammy and Zoey want me to tell you that if you're not following them on Twitter, you should. They tweet fairly often and like to chat about the lessons they are learning and the fun they're having.

Two months later and we have new life

So it's been two months since I said good-bye to Betsey and Ross. Crap. Even saying that brings tears to my eyes. I guess I should have known it would. I spoke about them and their passing with a friend on Monday night and cried more tears than I planned.

Do I miss them? Yep. I sure do. I see their pictures daily and I miss them a lot. But it was their time and I know that. I know I made the right decision.

I've sort of stopped thinking of myself as Betsey and Ross's mom. I've removed them from my Blogger profile. I no longer think about how much I miss them every day. I can (usually) speak about them without crying.

Those are enormous steps.

I think those steps happened because I took a huge leap of faith 10 days ago.

I adopted two beautiful kittens.  They are 12-weeks old tomorrow. I think it's a little fitting that they were born at the exact time I had originally planned to say good-bye to Betsey (February 24). What is it they say about one life ends so another can begin?

Anyway, the kittens are 12-weeks old. They are brother and sister litter-mates and they are a bundle of energy. I had almost gotten past feeling my house was too quiet when they arrived on Mother's Day, only to bring noise and life back to my house. They are goofy and silly in all the ways kitties are. Yesterday, I turned around to find the boy had climbed the screen of my sliding to my sliding glass door. They wake me up in the middle of the night when they decide it's time to find their times in the Indy 500 trials, racing across my face at 700 miles per hour. They are loving and cuddly and purr so loudly I can't hear myself think.

They make me happy.

In simplest terms, they are beyond cute. To call them cute is to understate their absolute adorableness.

And just like Betsey and Ross, they are rescue kitties. Along with their 3rd sibling, a brother, they were rescued off the mean streets of Chicago. A foster family in Libertyville loved them for their first 10 weeks and I fell in love with them via Petfinder.com. The foster family also litter box trained them. Thank goodness. With any luck, they will bring me almost 16 years of love and happiness, just like Betsey and Ross did.

So without further ado, please welcome Sammy (left) and Zoey (right) to my family. Oh, and they have Twitter.

It's Been A Month . . .

It's exactly one month since I said good-bye to Betsey and Ross.

I've gotten to the point where I can now mostly think or talk about them without crying or being sad, but every so often the pain is still raw.

Don't misunderstand me, I know I made the right decision, but I miss them.

• I miss them hopping up on the dining room table in an attempt to share my dinner.
• I miss Betsey nuzzling my neck and purring as I fall asleep.
• I miss Ross greeting me at the door each night.
• I miss the way they'd warm up my bed each night and give me the stink eye each morning when the alarm went off.
• I miss them shedding on everything and never being able to get their hair off my clothes.
• I miss the mess they'd make with their food on my bedroom floor.
• I miss finding Ross hiding in my bedroom closet or under the bathroom sink.
• I miss Betsey "talking" all night long.
• I miss the way they would groom each other, protect each other, and curl up into each other to sleep.
• I miss Betsey "helping" me work by laying across my left arm while I typed on my computer and "reading" every word I wrote.
• I miss waking up in the morning to find all my lower kitchen cabinets wide open because Ross has opened them during the night.
• I miss them talking to me while I am in the shower, where they knew they had a captive audience.
• I miss Ross's rough and tumble attitude. In 16 years, I never saw him lose his cool and calm demeanor. He even purred when he saw me coming with the insulin needle.
• I miss the way Betsey would suddenly be under foot before I had a can of tuna completely open, even if when I pulled it out of the cabinet she was three rooms away.
• I miss the how they would scratch at a closed door when I was on the other side because they thought I was having fun without them.
• I miss looking over at the wing-back chair and seeing Betsey curled up on it.
• I miss pulling out a chair at the dining table only to find Betsey or Ross curled up on it and giving me the "do you mind? I'm sitting here" look.
• I miss walking into the kitchen and finding Ross on the counter licking drops of water out of the faucet. I guess I'm just lucky he never figured out how to turn it on.

I guess I'm just trying to say I miss them a lot. I keep thinking I'm not going to miss them so much. People keep telling me it'll go away when I get new cats to replace them. I've actually looked at some cats online at the local shelters and considered adopting a cat a friend was giving away because her new home wouldn't allow her cat. But I'm just not ready. Maybe one day, but I don't see it happening any time soon.

I've Been Quiet Because I've Been Mourning

You may have noticed that I've been quiet since March 23rd when I posted Betsey and Ross's obituary.

The truth is that I've spent a lot of time crying and missing them. I miss them more than words can begin to say. In fact, even writing those words make me tear up and I've gone all day without crying once. Some days, I do really well and can smile when I talk about them or see their picture. But I haven't been able to read the obituary I wrote since I posted it because to see it is too still too much.

The cards, notes, and comments from friends and readers have helped me. It's amazing how many people really understand that pets are more than just pets. They're family. And, in a way, they're more than that. Unlike some family relationships, my relationship with Betsey and Ross was never complicated. They never judged or said "I told you so." I never felt inferior with them and they didn't care if I put make-up on in the morning. They simply loved unconditionally and let me love them unconditionally. They taught me that.

I picked their ashes up on Saturday morning from March Animal Hospital to bring Betsey and Ross home for the final time. Walking through the vet's door, I burst into tears. Kathy, one of the wonderful receptionists, spotted me and brought me the package containing their ashes, in one urn, and their paw prints. Inside the velvet bag was a card with a story a co-worker had sent me earlier in the week. Each time I read it, the story makes me feel just a little better.

Until we meet again at the Rainbow Bridge . . . 

There is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had been left behind. 

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly sops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; his eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carry him faster and faster. 

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again career the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from life but never absent from your heart. 

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together . . .

Betsey and Ross are playing together at the Rainbow Bridge. And until we're together again, their ashes live in a special place in my house and their paw prints hang next to the collage of my favorite Betsey and Ross pictures.

Betsey and Ross Gardner: July 4, 1996 - March 23, 2012

Betsey and Ross age 10. Ross is wearing a little lipstick from a kiss he received from his mom.

Betsey and Ross Gardner were born on July 4, 1996 on the rough streets of Washington D.C. to a single cat mother. They were two of three kittens born that day and quickly taken in by a kindly gentleman in Northwest DC. After eight weeks of love and nurturing, he searched online for a warm and caring home for two of the kittens, as he could only keep the mom and one kitten and quickly found an eager, albeit nervous, adoptive first-time pet mom.

Siblings, best friends, and litter mates, Betsey and Ross were adopted by Jessica Gardner, a novice pet owner, under the cheerleading and mentorship of her friends Karen and Kelly, and moved into their new home, a palatial one-bedroom apartment in upper-middle-class DC suburb Alexandria, Virginia. Their home was complete with indoor bathroom facilities, regular feedings, ample water, and many windows from which to serenade the birds perched high in the trees.

When they were adopted, Betsey and Ross had no names, but through a nomination convention and then secure voting process, the names Betsey and Ross were chosen by Jessica's friends in honor of Betsy Ross, the creator of the American Flag, that their birthday was the Fourth of July and they were born in Washington, D.C. Betsey's name has an E because Jessica didn't know how to spell Betsy. True story.

Betsey and Ross had many hobbies, including sleeping, grooming each other, purring, snuggling with and kneading their adopted mom, and playing with their cat toys and each other. Betsey especially loved tuna and would "sing for her supper" each time a can was opened anywhere in 3-home radius. Ross was particularly fond of ice cream and all "human food" often attempting to take food right off his mom's plate. On one occasion, in 2007, Betsey saved her mom's life when a mouse entered their home in the northwest Chicago suburb of Arlington Heights. Without care for her own well-being, Betsey heroically killed the beast and saved the family. Ross kept feral cats at bay when he bravely guarded the house from the living room sliding glass door.

Betsey and Ross were often featured on their mom's blog, Little Merry Sunshine, where they even penned a few posts (and here and here and here). They also have a Twitterfeed where they chat with their friends whenever they can wrangle the computer or cell phone from their mom. Their last tweet was "We have loved our mom, @Jessica_Gardner & are grateful for the life she gave us. Although we are leaving her, we will always watch over her."

Both Betsey and Ross loved to travel. Although getting them in the car was never easy, once there, Betsey would sing along with the radio or make up her own tunes, chat with Ross, and then sleep. Ross preferred to check out the scenery. Both cats had well-used passports that were stamped in many far away lands, including DC, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, North and South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. They've seen the Atlantic Ocean, Lake Michigan, the Appalachian Mountains, the Chicago Skyline, and all the monuments in Washington DC. They even flew on airplanes. Plus, they went to Watervale once!

Betsey and Ross had a brief brush with fame (although fortune was not included) in 2008 when they were selected to be Super Dele-Cats for then presidential candidate Barak Obama and were featured on the website Cats for Obama (scroll about 3/4 of the way down the page). Before their passing, Betsey and Ross once again endorsed President Obama for a second term as our nation's Commander in Chief because of his belief that every cat's food dish should have catnip.

Although the final two years of their lives were filled with illness, they spent the majority of their almost 16 years in excellent health. Betsey became ill in the summer of 2010 and after countless tests, the diagnosis was hyperthyroidism and cystitis. Until just recently, neither of these illnesses slowed Betsey down. She steadfastly crawled into bed nightly to snuggle and lick her mom's eyelids. Never one to complain, Betsey was brave throughout many treatment cycles, concealing her physical pain until it was too overwhelming to hide and her body simply shut down. Ross was diagnosed with Diabetes and a cancerous Mast Cell Tumor in June 2011. Since that time, he fought an amazing battle, but in the end, the Diabetes won out and Ross was no longer able to control his major organs.

Many people believed Betsey to be aloof and sometimes mean because she was an introvert, not the easiest to get to know and would often hiss at or hide from anyone other than her mom and those she knew best. The truth was that Betsey was fiercely loyal, loving, and playful, usually greeting her mom at the front door, eager to share the adventures of her day. Recently, Betsey showed her true colors when her mom had the stomach flu. Although sick herself, Betsey stayed by her mom's side throughout the ordeal using her purring and kneading powers to bring her mom back to good health.

Ross loved everyone. Just step within three feet of him and he'd start purring and delighted in having his Budda belly rubbed. He also served as the official family doorman, greeting all visitors with hospitality and warmth. Ross loved to play Hide & Go Seek; his favorite spot was inside a dark closet or underneath his mom's bed (aka The Cat Cave).

Having moved to Lake Bluff, Illinois in September 2011, both Betsey and Ross loved exploring the family's new home and making their special places on the new sofa, in the walk-in closet, in the bathtub, on the bed, and on the wingback chair. Starting life in the mean streets of DC and ending up on Chicago's swanky North Shore, Betsey and Ross's lives were a true Horatio Alger story.

Betsey will be remembered for her outspokenness when she could see the bottom of the food dish (even if that were only possible because she'd pawed her way to the bottom of a full bowl), the way she sang in the backseat of the car whenever she visited her vet, her kisses and healing kneading powers, and her loud purr. Ross will be remembered for his love of snuggling, his racing around the house like it was his personal Indy 500 track, his loud purr and kisses, his general rough and tumble attitude, and the way he finagled liposuction in 2005. Of course, the yellow onsie he had to wear after surgery made it all worth it.

When asked for a comment, through her tears, Jessica said, "Betsey and Ross were the best first pets I could ever have asked for. Having not grown up with pets of any kind, I was terrified that first night, but they quickly came to inhabit a large part of my heart. I truly loved each and every day that I was allowed to be their "mom" and only hope I brought as much to their lives as they brought to mine. Saying good-bye to them is breaking my heart, but I take comfort in knowing that they came into this world together and they are leaving together. They have not spent more than one night apart in their almost 16 years and now they will spend eternity together running freely and in perfect health in Kitty Heaven. Knowing they are both free of their illnesses also brings me peace. I will think of them often, but especially on the 4th of July as I'm watching fireworks."

Betsey and Ross spent their final night snuggled up with their mom, purring and enjoying their favorite foods, and generally unaware of their fate. In their final hour, love filled the room as they said their good-byes.

Throughout their lives, Betsey and Ross had a few special caregivers they dearly loved, including Dr. Donna Krochak at the Alexandria Animal Hospital in Alexandria, Virginia, Dr. Jennifer Kinnavy and Dr. Nick Guedet of March Animal Hospital in Arlington Heights, Illinois, and Andrea Tredway, vet tech extraordinaire and the cousin of Jessica, Betsey's mom, in St. Charles, Missouri who always took Jessica's panicked phone calls about her pet's health. For their skill, love and care, the family will always be grateful.

Betsey and Ross are survived by their mom Jessica, and many other friends and family members, including a special friend who they know is giving Jessica some TLC tonight and was there with them in their final moments.

Gratitude List

One thing that's helped me feel better over the last few days is focusing on all I have to be grateful for. I thought I'd share that list tonight, as I do periodically.

Today I'm grateful . . .

• that I had 38 wonderful years with Nana and that up until the last two years, she was in fairly good health. She had her problems and was never quite the same after her stroke in 2002, but she was feisty, fun, optimistic, loving, generous, and the kindest woman I've ever known.
  
• that I have a business with flexibility so I can take the time I need to mourn and be with my family.
• for music that makes me want to sing and dance. Of course, I'm also grateful that I can sing and dance.
• for friends who give me space, but don't let me fall too far. It's a delicate balance, but my friends seem to have mastered it.
• for the generosity that has poured out of friends, family and strangers these last few weeks. I received the list of donors in Nana's honor to Crystal Beach Community Church today and am blown away by the generosity of those who have donated. I am overwhelmed with gratitude on this one.
• that I took the advice to get into grief counseling. It took me awhile to find what was right for me, but just setting up the appointment has made all the difference.
• that I am able to spend more time with my mom this month and we've got some really fun stuff planned.
• for Betsey and Ross. Never ever underestimate the healing power of pets.
• that I feel like myself today.
• for the friendships I've renewed through Facebook. Que "It's A Small World Afterall" here.
• that the Cubs won tonight.
  

Christian the Lion

Are you familiar with Christian the Lion?

Watch the video below and try not to cry. Trust me, nothing bad will happen. It's a love story pure and simple. And it's a reminder that true love and friendship last a lifetime. I promise you'll be moved.