RIP Gordita

Two years ago there was a death in the family and my parents found themselves with two little cats. Well, one little cat and one big fat cat, so we called them Chiquita and Gordita.  It was a pleasure to see my folks fall in love with them, especially Mom who had thought cats were like having a reptile or hamster or something. It was wonderful too to see these neglected cats learn to be pets, to communicate their wants and interact so gently, so unlike my boisterous dog.

My favorite was always Gordita. She wasn't just fat, she was also really dumb- like they have two litter boxes next to each other and she'd poop in one then go into the other one to bury the poop. She was also easily scared so she'd roll around on the rug for pets but continuously get up and step, like, two feet out of reach then start rolling around asking for pets some more. And she stank and would randomly have little clumps of poo stuck in her butt. Sometimes she'd meow and no sound would come out. Plus her sister would pick on her. Basically I loved her more cuz she needed more love. Since before she learned to ask for pets I'd always give her lots of love and would be so happy when I got a purr going. So when she saw me she'd instantly start rolling around on the carpet for pets, it was automatic and it always made us laugh.
As she got used to life in Chicago she learned she could get cuddles all night sleeping with Mom, and mom would wake up to Gordita touching her gently on her face over and over with her paw. She loved being in the patio and watching all the exciting goings-on, she could spend the whole day there. She caught a few birds too, and last summer we called her the serial killer.
Mom and Dad are in Uruguay for two weeks and Mr. Devices and I are taking care of the cats, but last Friday night, Gordita started vomiting. She wasn't eating drinking/peeing/pooping. Then on Monday I thought I saw her eating and on Tuesday I saw her pee, so I thought she was fine. On Wednesday she was yowling, sort of a yelled out Meow of despair. I thought maybe she was just upset about Mom and Dad being gone but that night she lost all co-ordination and was wobbling around. We found a pet ER, thank God for Google and Yelp, and I drove through a frigid night with her in a cloth bag against my belly, reeking of feces.
Long story short, the Doc couldn't believe she was still alive when they got her blood work back. We were with her in her last moments and poor Mr. Devices was inconsolable.
Since Mom and Dad were gone, hubs would take lots of pictures to text them and he got this great series of action shots of Gordita making biscuits. She always had that spaced out expression in her eyes.
I'm so grateful to think we gave her such a happy second half of her life, that we got to know her, that we took so many pictures and have so many sweet and funny memories. I'm grateful we went to the vet who let us know there was nothing we could do and not to blame ourselves. I'm grateful her sister is the more independent one who now doesn't have to worry about Gordita eating all her food. I loved seeing how they made my parents laugh and just sit there with big goofy smiles, even my Dad who's not very expressive. I have nothing but gratitude and happy feelings about my time with Gordita.