Robot Claw

It was almost 12 years ago when we adopted Emi. We’d seen her in a cage in a pet store and our hearts were immediately stolen. It didn’t matter she was disabled: she was just too cute to not welcome into our home. So we did.

As with all kittens she was a bundle of energy as a babe, endlessly amusing to us and perplexing to her sisters Daisy and Yossie. Her hopping quickly got her a nickname – Hopping Toad – which led to her lifelong nickname of just Toad.

In time her leg stump became a problem, and this led to a stressful period during which she had two operations and eventually lost the remainder of the missing leg, which I wrote about in some detail. While it kept us awake at night with worry as it was occurring, this change to her life would ultimately be liberating. After that point, she was never again disabled in our eyes.

Emi loved playing on paper. She loved getting under things like boxes or bags we left on the floor. She loved snacks like potato chips and popcorn and string cheese. She loved laser pointers and chasing the feather toy. She loved looking out windows so much we installed a shelf just for her.

She loved milk so much I called her ‘milk monster’. Very often – almost every day – I’d see her patiently waiting next to my desk as I ate my breakfast, since she knew I’d put the bowl down for her to lick clean. The sight of Emi looking up at us from the floor was a common one especially if we were in the kitchen. She was a bit clumsy and often underfoot, but always cute as she intently watched.

More than anything though, Emi loved a snuggle. She was the lappest lap cat we’ve ever had, and whenever either of us was sitting she was usually in our lap. Almost always this was Kristin’s lap, and in time Emi became ‘Kristin’s cat’. Not only would she sit in her lap every evening, she also slept close to her – very often under the covers – at night. Kristin and Emi formed a very strong bond, and if you wanted to find Emi you just had to look for Kristin.

Emi matured into a wonderful old girl. She was always gentle and forgiving, and demanded little. She was tolerant with the other cats – including when a lively new kitten moved in a couple of years ago – and rarely fazed by anything. She never got very big, and even in her older years never demonstrated less agility than a four-legged cat. She had a great and unique personality, and we knew our family would never again have a girl like her.

Last weekend Emi fell ill. She was hiding and not eating, which are always bad signs for a cat. We took her to the vet and learned that she was very ill. Four days of tests and treatment followed, during which our hopes were first dashed then rose on apparent good news. But when Emi came home after the second full day at the vet it was obvious she was declining, and our hearts were heavy.

And yet she still spent that evening sleeping in Kristin’s lap, and that night snuggled next to Kristin in bed. It was what Emi loved most, and what gave her peace. Yesterday we dropped her off again for another day of vet care, and not long after received the terrible call: Emi was dying. We rushed to her to say goodbye, and with her in Kristin’s arms it was time to let Emi go.

Emi had a wonderful life, she loved us as much as we loved her, and will always be our sweet little toad.  Farewell, beloved Emi: now you can watch the birds forever from an always-sunny window, and spend every afternoon and night sleeping with the mother you love.

We’ll never forget you, and our memories will always be with love.