The Glasgow Courier - Serving Proudly As The Voice Of Valley County Since 1913

By Sandy Laumeyer
Just A Thought 

My Friend Holly

 


I lost a friend recently. A four-legged friend whose ears had been lost due to frost. I met her at the home of Sheila and Perry Vosen. After not having a cat for about six years, I decided I wanted one. Sheila put a cat in my arms. When I went to hand her back to Sheila, she wouldn’t let go of me. So I took her home and named her Holly since I’d gotten her two weeks before Christmas.

It took her a few days to become accustomed to me and I to her. Soon she was jumping up on my bed at night and curling up next to my side. Before long she and I had a routine. Breakfast at 6 a.m. and supper at 5 p.m. When I’d get my dish of grapes to take to bed, she’d sit beside her dish and look up at me as if to say, “Well, where’s my bedtime snack?”

Any time I didn’t feel well, Holly seemed to sense it and would curl up next to my side when I laid down. Otherwise, she could be found napping on my lap.

I purchased a harness for her and we would take walks around the yard so she could familiarize herself with her surroundings. After a few weeks, she was ready to explore on her own but every couple of hours she’d be back to get a drink or a few bites of food.

She seemed to know when it was time to come in for the night. As soon as she walked in the door, she’d announce she had returned.

When I had my hip surgery and would walk through the house for 15 minutes or so, she’d run ahead of me or duck into another room and then jump out behind me. Apparently she thought we had a game going.

Then, one day she came into the house, unable to control her back legs. She made it as far as the hallway to my bedroom before collapsing. I immediately put her into her carrier and headed for the veterinary clinic. Upon checking her out and running several tests, the vet told me she suspected my cat had been poisoned. I was told they could give her intravenous fluids and antibiotics to try and flush the poison out of her system. So I left her in their care and went home hoping that Holly would pull through

But the next morning the vet called and said Holly was declining. With a heavy heart and tears in my eyes, I said, “Then let’s let her go. I don’t want her suffering.”

Holly now rests on a hill on our farm along with other pets from over the years.

She was right beside me when I was sad or hurting or not feeling well. And when I was happy, she knew and would often put her front paws on my shoulders and look into my eyes. When I returned home from a trip, she’d wrap her front legs around my neck and start purring.

Yes, she was just a cat. But she was my friend and I miss her.

 

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