Too much sad going on

Our beautiful cat Sydney has died.

We adopted her so long ago, it was before Greg and I were married, before we bought our condo. It feels like she's been with us forever.

She was a very vocal, social cat who followed Greg around like a puppy. She was polite, though. She would come up on our bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings, just to check and see if we were awake yet. If we weren't (or we were lying still and pretending) she'd just hop down and check back an hour later.

Often on Sunday mornings we'd have family cuddle time; she'd lie on Greg's chest and I would snuggle up in his shoulder nook.  A couple of times each year she'd have allergy troubles and those Sunday morning snuggles would sometimes include sneezes; a kitty sneeze in the face from just a few inches away is pretty unpleasant. But we always laughed.

She meowed really, really loudly when she wanted something, and not just once or twice, she would keep going until she got it. She purred so loudly you could literally hear her from the next room. I've never heard a cat purr so noisily.  She used to purr while she was eating her crunchy cat food and it was the weirdest, most savage sound. Sometimes you can look at the 12-pound Siamese housecat and see the lion.

She started losing weight, and we took her to the vet, and they did blood tests and didn't help her at all. So we took her to another vet and he did more tests and tried so hard with different types of medication.

Cancer through her digestive system meant that she was eating, but not getting the nutrients she needed to maintain weight. So she'd eat, and lose weight, and seem normal, but still lose weight. And the poor thing always felt hungry. We'd give her cheese and steak and peanut butter and all kinds of ridiculous things, and she enjoyed eating it but got none of the calories and stayed hungry.

So it became a question of how long to wait. I know some people wait until their beloved animal family members are not able to walk, not able to do anything. We didn't want to wait that long.

While she was still able to get around, and meet us at the door every day when we got home from work, and jump up on my lap, and purr a little from time to time, we put her to sleep. She was clearly suffering, but the suffering wasn't constant yet. She weighed less than 4 pounds.

She's gone now. Our house is so quiet.

I swear the saturation isn't bumped up on her eyes,
they really were an amazing color
(~ 4 years ago)

Nothing better than lying on a nice crunchy fresh plastic
bag... except maybe jumping into a nice fresh cardboard box
(~ 5 years ago)

Greg and Sydney on her last morning

Lying in my lap, the expert in
maximizing lap comfort (~3 years ago)

Inspiration: Vali Myers

Since hearing Anne Rice speak about surrounding herself with things that inspire her (I mentioned it here), I've been more conscious about what inspires me.  What tv shows/movies/books/music do I just kill time with, and which ones really spark creativity?

One artist that I've been thinking about a lot lately is Vali Myers.  In many ways, I think she must have been the exact opposite of me; she seems like she was just completely fearless, and lived her life making choices that were shocking to most people.  She spent years as a homeless ballet dancer in Paris, then several decades in a remote village in Italy, living with two men and countless animals, including her pet fox.

She tattooed her face.

She inspired, befriended and loved many famous artists, including Salvador Dali, Tennessee Williams,  Patti Smith, and Mary Ellen Mark and Annie Liebovitz, who took this photo of her in 1974:

Her artwork is unique and passionate, and utterly painstaking: She used a technique similar to pointillism, creating beautiful works of art using tiny pinpricks of ink.  It was an incredibly time consuming process, and could take months or years to complete.  She herself, her animals, and her lovers were often the subject of her artwork.

She lived her life with joy, and fire.  She was free.

She died after a short bout with cancer in 2003, back in Australia, where she'd been born.

"I've had 72 absolutely flaming years. It doesn't bother me at all, because, you know love, when you've lived like I have, you've done it all. I put all my effort into living; any dope can drop dead. I'm in the hospital now, and I guess I'll kick the bucket here. Every beetle does it, every bird, everybody. You come into the world and then you go." ~ Vali Myers, 2003