Ode To Rags:
Poo, I bid you adieu.
Rags on 3/29/09
Ode to Rags
In December 1989, I was ten years old
when you arrived at Christmas, a mere 4 months old.
You were the family’s cat, a replacement for Skittles, my first cat,
It’s no surprise that I rolled out the welcome mat.
You knew you’d be mine,
it was just a matter of time.
Cabbage patch clothes and baby carriage strolls–your introduction to the human world
And subtle meows and popping purrs would unfurl.
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You were an old soul and were chosen for our family for that reason.
As you grew, my affection and adoration for you were to season.
I’d drag you all over– swimming pools, jet skis and a few boat rides,
Yet you’d tolerate it, knowing it would be one of those things that’d soon subside.
Hiding in basements, avoiding the wrath of teenagers and toddlers,
You’d venture out, in due course, as one of earth’s great healers.
Walks outside, visits to the dock, wrapped around my neck,
Any other cat would be a wreck.
Catnip highs, dry tuna flakes and ice water cups,
We wouldn’t know when fur balls would erupt.
Your name evolved through the years:
Rags, Raggle Muffins, Oh My Muffins!, Raggle Puss, Naggle
Boo Boos, Freegie, Raggles, Raggies and Poo,
Must have been confusing to those ears!
Most of your life, you were a hefty 13 pound,
And you’d pee and poop in places, where that stuff should not be found!
Drinking water from sinks, stuffed animal catnaps,
Days would go by and time would elapse.
Boobs, periods, cramps, boys and heartache,
You were my much needed break.
A patchwork kitty, a band-aid man.
You quilted my heart, your grand plan.
Late night studies and the distraction of you on my bed,
I couldn’t resist getting you to pop me on the head!
I was off to Nashville, then to Lawrence and finally Albuquerque,
I missed you all the while, my furry turkey.
In December 2005, they’d discover lymphoma of your liver,
The news of which, would make me quiver.
Yet you battled the surgeries and the chemo, all our trips to Mission Med Vet,
Fighting all along, avoiding the threat.
You’d come out on top, free of cancer,
For only you knew the answer.
I’d have you to myself,
alone in my house, just me and yourself.
As your age progressed, so did your failing kidneys,
Sub Q fluids, pills out the wa-zoo, were all part of the decree.
Never a break, never a rest,
You and I were exhausted, and you began to protest.
Finally, you’d give me that look, “Jenny, I cannot do this anymore.”
And I knew it would be my turn to do that most dreaded chore.
You’d choose the time, the place,
We’d do it at your pace.
It was a Monday morning,
And I had had plenty of warning.
Bill, Dad and me were there to say good-bye
It was by your wishes that I would comply.
You went quick and serene,
In your final moments as a Dean.
With all your wisdom, strength and courage, I will miss you tremendously,
And the desire to see those steely blue eyes will haunt me horrendously.
Naggle Freegie, you, I adore,
You’re a love, a love that builds from the core.
I love you Poo,
And I bid you adieu.
If you want to learn more about Rags on this website, please feel free to visit the following pages:
- Analog Remedies – Rags’ Evaluation
- More Photos of Rags
- Rags’ B12 Shots
- Rags’ Dental on 9-23-08
- Rags’ Dental on 4-22-08
- Links to Other Websites where Rags Appears
- Ode to Rags
- Rags Lymphoma – from diagnosis to recovery
- Rags 19th Birthday
- Videos of Rags
One of the things I knew I would miss most about Rags was his purr. For 19 years I listened to that purr as a way to de-stress. I wanted to capture it, so about 2 weeks before he died, I decided to record it and then put it on YouTube, so I would have it forever. I am so thankful that I did.
The video, although black in the picture below, starts out with Rags in his yellow bed. As a kitty in renal failure, Rags was weak, so didn’t get up much, unless I had him go on walks outside. I figured the exercise helped keep everything moving.
If you have an older kitty with CRF, and you want to learn how Rags died and the days leading up to his death, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I would have loved to have known about what happens and what to expect.