Nashville cats play clean as country water.

If you saw my most recent post, you know that our family lost the greatest cat last week. (Please don’t take this opportunity to tell me that YOUR cat is the greatest cat. I used to eat feta cheese and chocolate chips mixed up in a bowl. You probably think that sounds terrible. AND, you’re WRONG, but it just goes to show that we all have individual differences and that’s why the world is such an interesting place.)

This is Sidney in 2007 showing off her greatest quality: Patience.

Robert Smith loves her cat.

(Meredith was proud to have done her own hair that day. With lotion.)

If you need to know more about Sid, and you DO because she really was the greatest cat, you can go here to read about the time when Harper pierced her ear with a hole punch.

You can go here to see what happened when we considered making chili out of her and serving it to our neighbors.

You can go here to see her Bono impression.

Finally, here she is on the day she accepted Ramona Quimby as her sister.

Sid & Ramona

I know that 47% of you are rolling your eyes and saying things like, “It was JUST a CAT!” Please know that if you’re part of that 47%, you’re on very thin ice right now, Sister. (That’s what I say to the girls when they’re on thin ice. It’s not very effective.) Anyway, I was right there with her at the end, and we spent quite a bit of time talking about the good old days: Nashville and meeting Jeff and getting married and moving back to St. Louis and meeting Meredith and Harper and Ramona for the first time. I took photos because I was feeling helpless and I knew that I wanted to remember when her life was great, but I also wanted to remember her final day with me.


I cried a lot. I had no idea that the whole process would go as quickly as it did. I had a hard time driving home, and it didn’t get any easier when this shuffled onto my iPod.

Nearly 72 hours have passed and I’m getting ready to eat Chipotle and as I type this message to you, Meredith’s friend is telling her how horrible our new school is and that it’s full of “stuck-up” people and that the school has “lots of financial problems” and all I can do is laugh and hope that the next month goes by fairly quickly, and that all transitions are smooth for everyone who is transitioning. And that includes you, unless you’re part of that 47% up there. (Thin ice doesn’t thicken in my world for at least four hours.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

28 thoughts on “Nashville cats play clean as country water.”

  1. Sending you lots of virtual hugs and kisses. Also, I hope Meredith knows that sometimes when a friend is going to miss you, the only thing they can think to say is how awful the new place will be. The new place will be awesome, made more so because Meredith will be there.

  2. What is it about another’s grief that makes us want to share our own? “She doesn’t want to hear it,” I tell myself. But here it is anyway: That photo of you and Sidney brought me right back to the last moments with my Lucy, a little over a year ago. She was 15. Lung cancer. RIP, Sidney and Lucy and all the beautiful girls.

  3. I’m so very sorry about Sidney. And I think it’s good that you have the move coming up for something to do. Not to distract you, because it won’t, but for something TO DO, for some motions to go through, some boxes to pack and some things to put in order. It might help a little, not with the grief itself, but with the paralysis that often comes with it. XOXO to YOU, Sister.

  4. “I had no idea that the whole process would go as quickly as it did.”

    This is always true. Especially when we’re at the end of something awesome. Gentle thoughts continued for all the Puddings.

  5. I’m really very sorry for your loss. She really sounds like a great kitty. This is always the hardest part of loving a pet, they aren’t here forever. Remember the good parts and eventually the hole you feel now will get smaller (though it never really disappears).

  6. There’s no such thing as “just a cat.”

    My parents had a pair of cats when I was born, Max & Sidney. They were named after famous drummers because my dad was a drummer. They, too, were marvelous.

    Here’s to smooth changes this month. xo

  7. No such thing as “just a cat.” I had to put my first cat down too. I cried for weeks. Hang in there. I’m saying a few St Francis prayers for you (he’s the patron saint of animals).

  8. I’m surely part of the other 53% Animals are just another baby in my mind. My heart hurts for you and your loss, big blog hugs to you. But feta and chocolate chips? Really?

  9. I smiled when I read the hole punch reference. I remember the post, but didn’t put it together. MY son & I went to Clowder House today. I saw several sleek gray beauties & thought of you & your Sid.
    They’re never “just” an anything. They’re part of the family.

  10. Those 47% are in the wrong room. Can someone point to the exits so they can go someplace where they’ll be more comfortable? Thank you. I do it but I’m a bit teary-eyed right now.

    And Natalie is absolutely right about the new-school horror stories. Meredith will find that out when she gets there.

  11. No such thing as “just a cat” or “just a dog”. This cat shared a life with you. That means something. Love to you.

  12. She wasn’t “just a cat”, she was just YOURS. Of course you mourn her … she was an important part of the family.

    I am very, very sorry for your loss.

  13. Losing a member of your family is hard, whether they had four legs or two. I’m so sorry for your loss.

    Sending virtual ((hugs)) and bowls of vegan feta with chocolate chips.

  14. So, so, so sorry for your loss! Heartbreaking for sure. And please know that you were very fortunate to have such a wonderful, loving and patient kitty, cause some of them can just be plain a*^holes. I speak from experience.

  15. How wonderful to have been loved by such a cat. Hoping the happy parts outweigh the sad parts in your heart very soon.

    Last year my second grader was asked to write a story about a dog. “We had a dog named Clyde. He died. My mommy cried and cried and cried. She loved him. We all loved him. We have a new dog now and she doesn’t cry anymore.”

    Sometimes I still cry. Oh, Clyde, what a great dog you were.

  16. I am so very sorry. I know there are times when my cat seems likes my only friend in the world. So glad Sydney was such a great friend to you.

  17. Oh, peanut. I’m so sorry about your kitser. She was lucky to have such a good family and so much love.

  18. There is no “just a cat”. My 19 year old is sitting beside me squawking as she does when she forgets she has food and I know that because her kidneys are failing that I will lose this companion and friend for half of my life soon. And it is so hard to think of.

    I’m sorry you lost your friend.

  19. It does go quick. I remember thinking I was ready to let my Rex go and then he just fell asleep and that was it. My mom took my shopping to make it better. Mom might not be around when My Oscar goes – mom is now 85 and she’s under strict orders to never die but she is so disobedient. I need to make sure someone knows to take me shopping afterwards.

  20. Aww, I’m so sorry. I have two cats and they’re both definitely my close buddies/furry babies. It’s so hard when they have to leave us.

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