Dafty Cat

Our little cat, Daphne (aka, Dafty), turned up in our cellar almost 10 years ago after a Christmas night snow storm. My sister and husband were visiting us and Sam, my brother in law, was the first to notice that Christmas night, a little kitty hiding out in the eves. Rich took down some food and it was gone within minutes. It took her a long time to finally come up the stairs to visit us, but after a few weeks of feeding and giving her water, she felt brave enough to see who we were. It was pretty clear she was feral, but as she acclimated to life in our cellar and sometimes lounge, she became mostly domesticated. She was still nervous of new people, and would hide in the cellar when people stopped by - even if they were staying with us for weeks. More recently she'd stopped hiding and was more able to stay and enjoy her comfy chairs and beds.

She was a funny cat: part Maine coon, we think, with a flat face that didn't strike everyone as pretty. She walked with an odd gait and most people thought she looked a little frightening. But she was a sweet, sweet cat with not a nasty or mean bone in her tiny, frail body. She never bit or scratched you and she loved her head and neck to be rubbed, emitting an incredibly loud, almost metallic purr as you petted her.

She was mostly a loner, finding peace in solitude. In warmer months she enjoyed the sunshine, stepping outside on to the kitchen steps, sunnying herself as she fell into a deep sleep. We often called her the carpark cat as she was frequently sound asleep in the middle of our driveway, inexplicably comfy on the gravel beneath her. We'd have to park the car, sometimes, toward the end of the driveway because she was so reluctant to get out of the way.

Raf was incredibly sweet with her, and she was sweet in return. He was very gentle and called her 'cat', and honestly was much keener on Dafty than he is on the dogs. He often said, 'kiss the cat', and would gently kiss her head.

The boys liked her, too. Kiltie used to harangue her when she was a puppy, and the only time I ever saw her 'lash out' was to swipe Kiltie away with her paw. Funny old kiltie would back into her in order to get close so that he could avoid getting his face swiped. Very weirdly she never swiped Sammy :) Yet here's a pic of Kiltie and Dafty sharing a nap.

We don't think she dealt with the transition to her new home very well, though. And, if we are honest, we feel a lot of regret and guilt that we weren't better kitty parents to her in the final few months. With so much going on her needs so often were relegated to Raf and the dogs. She was so independent and the consequence of that is that her needs could so often be overlooked because she never made a fuss, she never demanded attention on the way Raf and the boys do.

A couple of days ago we noticed a limp. We didn't think much of it because she'd been outside for the first time, sitting under the bird feeders, enjoying the warm sunshine. If anything I thought she was adjusting, getting used to her new surroundings and new cellar with all of her old sofas and chairs... but yesterday, when I returned from the midwife I knew she was desperately ill. Overnight she had lost the complete use of her back legs. I was devastated. I picked her up and her tiny, frailness registered for the first time. She must have lost so much weight very, very quickly. I called Rich and said she needed to be seen immediately, that I felt that this was it. Rich was optimistic - that they could help her - but had he seen her and understood how different she was from just a few hours before, he would have known. I got an appointment for 4:30 but as soon as I was off the phone from the vet I knew, knew she wouldn't last that long. I sat on the floor with her as life seemed to be ebbing away and stroked her head - no purring. I called the vet back in tears asking if we could be seen as soon as possible... she said I could take her to the emergency vet but somehow her seeing an anonymous stranger seemed absolutely terrible and so they squeezed us in and I picked up dafty, put her in her box, and sped to our old vet's.

The tech knew straight away that we wouldn't be taking Dafty home. I knew, too. The vet and tech were incredibly kind. The tech remembered Dafty from her past visits. Once I took Kiltie and Dafty for an appointment at the same time and Dafty hid underneath Kiltie's legs. The tech remembered that she was a 'hider', but this time she didn't hide, she lay there, a shell of her former self. Rich was on his way to meet me there, and while I waited for him to say goodbye, I crouched on the floor rubbing her head in her favourite way saying my regrets and my sorries through plenty of tears. Her body was relaxing, she was so ready to go. She was a tiny 3 pounds (half her usual body weight), and it was clear that nothing could be done.

Rich and I stayed with her and she went very peacefully. She was so dignified - as always.

Dafty was so unassuming, so sweet and funny. Someone recently commented to me that she was beautiful. Hardly anyone described her as beautiful - just the contrary - but she was a beautiful girl and we miss her terribly.

Today we gave her a good send off. Raf didn't really have a clue and preferred to watch Thomas inside, but he came out and said goodbye and helped dad with the shoveling. Raf declared that it takes "team work" as he helped, and we all agreed. When we were inside looking at photos of today, Raf asked what they were and I told him that Dafty Cat had gone, that she'd had a big boo-boo and was now with papa in the stars. Raf simply stated, 'Cat gone; bye-bye Cat', and later remarked that the cat was in the 'stars'.

Good-bye, Dafty Cat, we love and miss you.