My ángelly 1998-2011

When I was 7 years old, my mother surprised my sister and I will an early Christmas present. To my absolute amazement, we drove to the humane society, and we were each told we could have our own kitten. It was a dream come true! I had been planning this moment for years, so I knew exactly what I wanted-- a pure white cat that I could name Angel.
In the room for 4 month old kittens, I found a mother with a litter of four kittens. The mother was a large long haired white cat, and the four kittens below her were mostly white with spots of grey. Spot, Spot, Spot, and Not. Not was a pure white kitten with gleaming gold eyes and hair so light her ears were brilliant pink. I was in love.
Angel was paid for and packed into the car. She was silent and nervous on the drive through the McDonald's drive through and back home. Angel finally opened up when I had her inside my bathroom where she lived her first days with us. I fed her part of my plain happy meal cheeseburger as she purred and licked my hand.
When my family arrived for the holiday season, I was excited to show off my beautiful new friend. "I didn't think Angel could walk for the first few years since you always carried her around," said my grandmother.
Angel and I spent a lot of time together. She would sit on my bed and attack my pencil when I was trying to do my homework or eat the corners of my books when I was reading. She spent her nights in my room sitting by my head purring and licking my hand. In the mornings, the sounds of the alarm upset her so she would cry and turn it off herself. Angel loved to troll the top of the stairs in front of my room. She was my little guard kitty, but when I could get her to settle down into a lap cat, she was the warmest cat. We took to calling her Sherman, the fire of Atlanta.
Christmas was Angel's favorite holiday. She loved to sleep on the tree skirt and even decorate the house. When my mom got the ornaments out, Angel would take them out and run with them through the house. Winter was also the only time Angel could blend in enough to go hunting. She had her share of chipmunks, but once she caught a huge bird that was bigger than she was. Angel was determined to get the bird even though it almost flew away with her.
Angel was beautiful with her sleek body, delicate paws, and angled Egyptian face. She was the model for all of the photo shoots my friends and I put on when we got new cameras the one year. Although beautiful, she was extremely hairy! Medium long white hairs were on everything. I would joke to my mother that she did not need an angora rabbit instead she could knit with all of Angel's fur. I couldn't leave my house without using 12 sheets of lent roller to get off most of the white hair, but I was thankful to see some of those white hairs when I was without my baby.
Angel loved to talk. We would have whole conversations in cat meows. She was always there with comforting words or meows of excitement. She was one of the best support systems I ever had. She backed me up on everything. One time my momma tried to get me out of bed early for school, and Angel yelled and pawed at her from the bed until I got to stay home for the day. She loved me unconditionally.
When I came home from Italy in August, I noticed that Angel, who had become a full figured woman, felt unusually light. A trip to the vet revealed that she had lost a lot of weight and her lungs were not functioning at their full capacity. At first we hoped it was only extreme asthma, and steroids would fix her. A miracle cure did not happen. Angel got worse and lost more weight. Cancer was eating her alive. The vet had once dubbed her as the delicate cat with a weak immune system, but Angel proved she was a fighter. She eagerly stayed vibrant and lively even up to her final hour.
Yesterday, my baby girl was so weak she could no longer stand. She was still trying to eat, and she purred even though she did not have the breath to do so. I picked her up and we drove to the vet. She clasped into my lap and cried only twice. I on the other hand cried all the way there and I have hardly stopped since. I gave ángelly a final kiss and rubbed her pink ear a last time before the vet tech took her to the back. I broke down in the bathroom of the emergency vet which was decorated in tissue boxes and a poem called the Rainbow Bridge.
A few minutes later, they handed me a heart shaped clay paw print impression and her body in a blue bundled blanket. She was still warm, and I clung to her for the next hour. I left her in her favorite white chair so my daddy could bury her body.
My baby girl lived a short life of only 13 years, but they were full of love and personality. She was an amazing cat and I will always remember how much she loved me and vice versa. I want to remember Angel in the way I saw her most-- flipped upside down in her favorite chair talking to me.

When going through hell, keep going

Hell is what I have been going through since Monday October 31. Halloween brought tragic news in the morning. The morning after an amazing GA/FL, I was woken up by my phone. First my doctor wanted to reschedule the appointment we had for that day. Great now I had to drive through ATL traffic on a Friday 5 o' clock, but much worse news was to come. Through a high school friend, I was informed that my favorite, sarcastic life long coach had been killed in a car accident early that morning. Something inside of me went numb. Coach Conway was so young. I still remembered his wedding. How could he be dead? He was my coach. The reason I was in love with defense and the history of football. He was involved in 90% of my best high school memories. Why was this wonderful person dead before he turned 35?
I went numb after the tragic event. I just had no idea what to do. My momma suggested a letter to the wife and son he left behind. I have yet to bring myself to make one of my favorite high school teachers and her son cry. I just so far have yet to be able to accept the death of my beloved coach. It just doesn't make sense how someone with so much passion for life could die. He was avoiding deer. Three of them to be exact. He died so that three deer could live. How many people would give their life for deer? Why do wonderful people go long before they are due?
Speaking of death, I have yet to give up on my baby girl. God hope my parents if they ever go into a coma. She did not look good when I saw her. Angel made her best efforts to make me happy. She ate and drank what I gave her and even came into the room of the little general to be with me. All of that still did not make her better. She was so small; she was literally a skeleton. I felt every knob in her spine and even the bones in her face. She is suffering, but fighting. I just cant stand to kill the fight in someone who wants life so badly. I know it sounds cruel, but I want to give her every chance and day she has. If she is fighting for life, why shouldn't I fight with her?
So much death and despair has marred me lately. I have had a difficult time getting up and facing the awful world. I even found a story today that would have been incredible with a little more research. I just could not bring myself to cover a murder. No 19 year old should be shot in the head. What psycho path takes out someone in their prime? It does not make sense. Murder is so senseless. Deaths always come in threes. To the gods, please let those be the three. No one else needs to die. Life is too good to be taken away so soon. Winston Churchill said it best,"When going through hell, keep going." Light and life is awaiting; don't give up. Never give up on anything.