I know it may seem stupid, but I'm going to do this anyways.
I'd like to write this little passage in memory of my dear cat Runtski, who passed away April 2010...
In 1999, she was the smallest of the littler. A black/orange/brown ball of fluff...the smallest fluff I had ever seen. I was a young kid (about 9 or 10) when I found the mom and her hiding spot. Miss kitty had hid them pretty well but mom made it my job to search all around the house in the countryside to find her so we could keep an eye on her. For a couple weeks, we checked on them but never touched them. Then one day, Miss Kitty brought all 8 of her babies out to show us. They were so small and so cute. But the smallest and cutest stood out to me. Out of the whole bunch she seemed to be the most ambitious one. She loved to play, loved to walk in the tall grass (with me nearby of course), and she loved to cuddle. Mom worried though that because she was the smallest, she wouldn't last too long, and if she did last, that no one would want her. I told mom right there that no one would, because I WANTED her. A few weeks went by then it was time to give the kittens a new home. One by one, each were picked out...then only 2 remained. Mom and I laid claim on them. I took my little runt and gave her the name Runtski.
Over the years, Runtski was my true feline friend. She followed me around the house, she still loved to play all the time, but she also loved to cuddle. She loved sleeping on my chest or my back. She would bump her head on my pencil while I did homework (it was a little bit annoying but it still touched me). She would greet me at the door whenever I walked into the house. When I had happy days, she would urge me to play with her. When I had sad days, she would sit on my lap and lick my cheeks free of tears. Then she would purr deeply and slowly and it would calm me down, as if to say "It's ok, I still love you always". Then one day in 2009, I signed the papers to join the Navy. At 21 I was nervous, but besides my friends and family comforting me, Runtski was there as well for comfort. Then February 2010 came and it was my time to go to bootcamp. The couple nights before, Runtski, even in her old age, would hop onto my bed and curl right next to me and purr. Then I left. For 3 months I endured bootcamp and its hardships that molded me into a disciplined sailor. I wrote home often and received letters from my mother informing me on the family as well as the pets. Then one day I received one. "Runtski hasn't been seen for a few days but we are looking for her"....I then worried but held that hope that she was ok and that she would be found. A couple days went by and mom reported that Runtski came home and was ok....I graduated from bootcamp and went on, thinking things were ok.
The next couple months I was gone into A-school, where I learned my military job and how to perform it. Then graduation came and it was time for me to go home before deploying. I arrived home by plane and was taken home by my mom. By the look on her face I could tell something was wrong....it wasn't until I got home that I found out why. When I walked in the door and called Runtski, there was no turtle shell cat running up to me anymore....then mom told me.
After I had left for bootcamp, for the first couple months Runtski would walk all around the house meowing, avoiding everyone who attempted to pet her, continuously going into my room meowing..as if looking for me. Then she started to just lie on my bed all day, silent. No purring. No meowing. Hardly ate. Then one day she ran off...she went missing for almost 3 weeks. Until one day she came home skinny and gaunt and looking ill. After a visit to the vet, she was severely dehydrated and her body was beginning to shut down. The only way to put her out of her misery was to put her down. Mom sadly agreed and the vet comforted her as he slipped the needle in. Mom told me that Runtski died while being held in her arms, while purring. She was sad but she was ready to go.
It hurt me to find out about this after being gone for over 5 months. It hurt that I couldn't have been there to provide her comfort, or that I couldn't be the one to hold her in my arms as she passed. It felt as if a piece of my heart died with her. But it brought comfort to me that she passed in loving arms, even if they weren't mine.
To this day I haven't had a cat to call my very own, because the thought of not being there for them like I wasn't for Runtski still hurts. But I know one day that another cat will catch my heart again. They may not catch it like Runtski did but they will still catch it nonetheless. I know this passage is quiet long, but after years of her being gone I feel that this is my way to finding closure and to maybe move forward, with her still in loving memory. And I hope that when the good Lord calls me home, and I reunite with my loved ones and past pets, that Runtski will be one of the first I see again. Because I know that she's up there with my loved ones, comforting them until I arrive so that she can climb up in my lap again, lick and nuzzle my face, and purr in that comforting way as if to say "I'm so happy to see you again".
In Loving memory of my feline baby Runtski.
May 1999-June 2010
I'd like to write this little passage in memory of my dear cat Runtski, who passed away April 2010...
In 1999, she was the smallest of the littler. A black/orange/brown ball of fluff...the smallest fluff I had ever seen. I was a young kid (about 9 or 10) when I found the mom and her hiding spot. Miss kitty had hid them pretty well but mom made it my job to search all around the house in the countryside to find her so we could keep an eye on her. For a couple weeks, we checked on them but never touched them. Then one day, Miss Kitty brought all 8 of her babies out to show us. They were so small and so cute. But the smallest and cutest stood out to me. Out of the whole bunch she seemed to be the most ambitious one. She loved to play, loved to walk in the tall grass (with me nearby of course), and she loved to cuddle. Mom worried though that because she was the smallest, she wouldn't last too long, and if she did last, that no one would want her. I told mom right there that no one would, because I WANTED her. A few weeks went by then it was time to give the kittens a new home. One by one, each were picked out...then only 2 remained. Mom and I laid claim on them. I took my little runt and gave her the name Runtski.
Over the years, Runtski was my true feline friend. She followed me around the house, she still loved to play all the time, but she also loved to cuddle. She loved sleeping on my chest or my back. She would bump her head on my pencil while I did homework (it was a little bit annoying but it still touched me). She would greet me at the door whenever I walked into the house. When I had happy days, she would urge me to play with her. When I had sad days, she would sit on my lap and lick my cheeks free of tears. Then she would purr deeply and slowly and it would calm me down, as if to say "It's ok, I still love you always". Then one day in 2009, I signed the papers to join the Navy. At 21 I was nervous, but besides my friends and family comforting me, Runtski was there as well for comfort. Then February 2010 came and it was my time to go to bootcamp. The couple nights before, Runtski, even in her old age, would hop onto my bed and curl right next to me and purr. Then I left. For 3 months I endured bootcamp and its hardships that molded me into a disciplined sailor. I wrote home often and received letters from my mother informing me on the family as well as the pets. Then one day I received one. "Runtski hasn't been seen for a few days but we are looking for her"....I then worried but held that hope that she was ok and that she would be found. A couple days went by and mom reported that Runtski came home and was ok....I graduated from bootcamp and went on, thinking things were ok.
The next couple months I was gone into A-school, where I learned my military job and how to perform it. Then graduation came and it was time for me to go home before deploying. I arrived home by plane and was taken home by my mom. By the look on her face I could tell something was wrong....it wasn't until I got home that I found out why. When I walked in the door and called Runtski, there was no turtle shell cat running up to me anymore....then mom told me.
After I had left for bootcamp, for the first couple months Runtski would walk all around the house meowing, avoiding everyone who attempted to pet her, continuously going into my room meowing..as if looking for me. Then she started to just lie on my bed all day, silent. No purring. No meowing. Hardly ate. Then one day she ran off...she went missing for almost 3 weeks. Until one day she came home skinny and gaunt and looking ill. After a visit to the vet, she was severely dehydrated and her body was beginning to shut down. The only way to put her out of her misery was to put her down. Mom sadly agreed and the vet comforted her as he slipped the needle in. Mom told me that Runtski died while being held in her arms, while purring. She was sad but she was ready to go.
It hurt me to find out about this after being gone for over 5 months. It hurt that I couldn't have been there to provide her comfort, or that I couldn't be the one to hold her in my arms as she passed. It felt as if a piece of my heart died with her. But it brought comfort to me that she passed in loving arms, even if they weren't mine.
To this day I haven't had a cat to call my very own, because the thought of not being there for them like I wasn't for Runtski still hurts. But I know one day that another cat will catch my heart again. They may not catch it like Runtski did but they will still catch it nonetheless. I know this passage is quiet long, but after years of her being gone I feel that this is my way to finding closure and to maybe move forward, with her still in loving memory. And I hope that when the good Lord calls me home, and I reunite with my loved ones and past pets, that Runtski will be one of the first I see again. Because I know that she's up there with my loved ones, comforting them until I arrive so that she can climb up in my lap again, lick and nuzzle my face, and purr in that comforting way as if to say "I'm so happy to see you again".
In Loving memory of my feline baby Runtski.
May 1999-June 2010
