Goodbye Frankie

Many people don't know this about me, and it saddens me greatly, especially today, but I had a cat named Frankie, whom I got when I was 17 years old from my brother-in-law's parents the weekend of my sister's and his wedding. As you all do know, I am HUGE animal lover. To me, my animals are not just animals, they are companions, they are best friends, they mean as much to me as people in my life do. They are very dear to me.

My kitty, Frankie, has lived with my parents since I moved out. Partly because I didn't want to uproot him from the only home he had ever known, but also because somewhere around the time I was 24-25, I became allergic to him. That didn't stop me from loving him and petting him, of course. I often gladly took the consequences to my love and affection for him.

Today while I was at work, my dad called me from the vet to tell me that he had to put my kitty down. The vet got on the phone and explained that he thought Frankie had a tumor somewhere, and that he suspected my cat's lungs were filled with liquid. He could barely breath, and my dad said that movement and even being touched and held were obviously painful for him.

Together, my dad and I cried as the vet prepared my cat, and then put him to rest.

I couldn't handle it. I was crying so hard. Sobbing. I loved my cat so much.

I knew I was drawing the attention of my coworkers, but I couldn't move. All I could do was cry and tell my dad to please have my kitty cremated and sent to me.

Frankie was always there for me. We went through a lot together. Whenever I needed a good cry, I would hold him in my lap and cry on his sweet, soft head while he gently purred and rubbed his lips along my jawline. There was nothing in this world as soothing to me as his purr. I told him all of the time that he was good for my heart, because as soon as I would touch him, no matter how stressed out I was, I could literally feel my blood pressure dropping and a sense of peace and calm come over me. It never ceased to amaze me how instantaneous my reaction to him was.

He was the sweetest, most loving cat. He loved to be pet and doted on. My brother and dad are going to miss him most because whenever they went out to the garage (which is where our cats live because my mother won't let animals in the house), Frankie would always run up and greet them. Even after I went away to college or moved away from home, I could always count on Frankie to come running when I opened the door and he heard my voice. He never failed. As soon as he heard my voice, he would come running, and start purring the second our eyes met.

The blessed kitty humored me too. I used to give him regular baths. While he didn't like them, he put up with them. Often times, I would bathe him, towel dry him, brush him out, and then curl up with him on my bed. He would always purr until he fell asleep.

One of my all-time favorite things was to cuddle with him and take naps with him. I used to hold him for hours on end. He was my kitty. My first very own kitty.

We spent many wonderful years together, and even though he was 14, it still doesn't make it easier to let him go. It breaks my heart that I wasn't with him physically petting him in his last moments alive. It hurts so much to think I will never see his yellow eyes again, feel his soft fur, or hear him purr for me. The next time I see him, he will be in a wooden box with his name on it, reduced to nothing but ashes.

I love you kitty. Thank you so much for being such a blessing in my life. I loved you so very much, and I am heartbroken to let you go. I will love you always.

Frankie 1996-2010