Remembering Anni

Mel Makaw.

As near as I can recall, the last time my living conditions didn't include a pet of any kind was back in 1987. Now, 37 years later, I find myself in the same condition.

A few days ago, I noticed my cat Anni – my only remaining pet – had a mouthful of blood. I took her to Tehachapi Veterinary Hospital, where I left her to be evaluated. A few hours later I received the call that no one wants to receive – Anni had cancer and the prognosis was grim.

I made the decision that is so hard to make, the one with which many of you are so familiar: I decided to let her go. No matter how many times I've had to make that decision in my life, it doesn't seem to get any easier.

Having another cat in my life was not planned. I was sitting in my gallery in downtown Tehachapi (CrossRoads Gallery) on November 15, 2006, with friends Pat and Ron. It was the one-year anniversary of the artist showroom, and we were enjoying memories and making plans for the future when in walks a little street kitten, very young and obviously very hungry.

All we had in the store refrigerator was some cheese, which the kitten devoured happily. And Pat and Ron decided I should take her home and make her my own. I protested but not very convincingly... so off we went to K-Mart to get kitten food, a box and litter. The little tabby seemed quite comfortable in my front car seat, and when we got to my house, she made herself right at home. It was evidently meant to be.

I named her Anni V. Ersery – Anni for short (plus a number of fun nicknames, as is my habit) – because she found me on my gallery's anniversary. It was also a very good way to remember her birthday, which must have been around the 15th of September.

So I've had Anni for almost 18 years, which is, as it turns out, the longest I've had any pet. I've had many dogs and cats through the years, including throughout my childhood, and Anni has been the last one standing for the last four years.

Now, today, as so rarely has been the case for me, my house is empty of pets, of any other lifeform than my own, and it is hard to get used to. My routine is off, I miss my little snuggler. My lap feels so empty.

Anni was not a snuggler to begin with. As a feral street kitten, she wasn't terribly interested in my attention at first, except when it came to feeding time, but she always liked to stay close to me. She wasn't terribly interested in my dogs either, although she tolerated them and established herself as an alpha. In time she grew into a mature cat and good hunter, but it was years before she deigned to sit in my lap.

Living in the country, she loved to go outside, and she loved to hunt. She brought me many dead and haft-dead critters through the years, to show me her love. If I took the dogs for a walk, she wanted to come too.

Another cat and both of my remaining dogs passed away eventually, and Anni and I moved into town, where she decided she didn't want or need to go outside anymore, to my relief. And she became a real lap cat, a real snuggler, climbing up whenever I sat in the recliner and often purring to let me know she was happy and content. Now I see this snuggling period as a happy third act.

I'd noticed that Anni was showing her age lately, being less active (more lap/nap time), and uninterested when a mouse literally ran across the living room floor in front of us. And eating less, but never acting hungry. Everything else seemed normal, until I looked in her mouth and realized she was suffering, although she had never complained.

Making the decision to let her go just gutted me. I don't like making those decisions, even though I know they are often necessary when you love an animal. I wish their time on earth was longer, I wish it didn't so often come to a human like me making that decision for another living being. I wish, I wish, I wish.

I held Anni in my arms as the vet helped her cross the Rainbow Bridge. I sobbed into her fur, even as I knew I'd done what was best for her, if not for me. I so appreciate the time and care and attention the folks at Tehachapi Veterinary Hospital took with Anni and me in our final moments together.

In memory of Anni Bananni Beanie Bean, my prettiest little kitty queen. 2006-2024

© 2024 Mel Makaw. Mel, local writer/photographer and author of On the Bright Side, a Collection of Columns (available locally at Tehachapi Arts Center and Healthy Hippie Trading Co.), welcomes your comments at [email protected]/.