My little baby pig. I write this with tears streaming down my face. My chest shaking in sharp and jagged jolts as I think of a possible life without you. I hope and pray that day is so, so far away for us. My whole being aches at the thought of not having you by my side and it hurts so badly that at times it doesn’t hurt at all because I can’t even process it.
This is such a fight right now.
It’s your second battle, out of nowhere, with this awful, unnecessary disease. This first time came and went so quickly- it felt like a dream. One minute our world was crashing down around us but the next you were back- better than ever. Your spirit, your light, your being was back and you knew, you KNEW that something scary had happened and you loved us that much more. You were even more loving than usual and that is saying a lot. Daddy called it your “catility” (cat-humility) obviously. Lol. And as you got sassier and bossier over the coming weeks of healing he would say “Mmmm. that bitch is losing her catility. Don’t know about that.” And we would laugh.
And then, the crash. Just like the first time it happened SO fast. One minute you were fine and the next we thought “something’s off”. Both times it was so minor. I truly feel it’s a testament to our love for you and your one of a kind spirit that we noticed at all. Just a little less loving. A little more quiet. No shower time. No luh-ing hour. After the last episode we knew to take you in right away. I thought we’d go in- you’d be out and back to you in a day or so. But this time was different.
This time, we learned you have a disease. A disease where your perfect, fluffy little body is attacking itself. Where one transfusion didn’t help. Two transfusions barely helped. But they helped enough that we got to bring you home! Home for treatment! And I thought for sure that in a few days your treatment would kick in and we would have you back. As I write this, weeping, using every positive belief in my body and soul to not give up hope, we have had you home for six days but you are barely here.
You are not gone- I can’t believe that you are gone- I think you are just resting. Off in a dreamland in your mind trying to tell your blood cells to get shit under control for god’s sake. Popping in to say hello once a day if we are lucky- giving us a glimpse that you are still in there, still fighting and we must still believe.
Of course you have a disease for dogs. It’s only fitting. Everyone always jokes that you are part dog so why wouldn’t you continue the joke? You’re so clever. You always have been so smart, Pig. It’s less funny this time but I appreciate the sentiment.
As I tell people about you during this insanely excruciating time I am reminded of how special you are and all the incredible traits that make you, You. Things we cherish you for but may have forgotten how unusual and special they are. Like how you love to travel in the car. How once you did a poo on the side of the road in the desert (after clearly telling us you needed to). How you are so smart you have conversations with us all day, you greet us with chatter when we get home and tell us all about your day. How you know sit, shake and “hands dance” and probably so many more things you are too stubborn to let us know about.
You hate a closed door. You like to know all your possible options. We have that in common.
When you were younger you used to wake us up in the night opening every single cabinet in the kitchen- just to show you could. We’ve become accustomed to leaving the dresser doors open for you in the room at night lest you pull and bang them for hours until getting the access you know you deserve.
You have a strict schedule of daily activities you like to follow. In the morning you start your day with luh-ing hour. You get SO excited that your people are awake and we get to live the day together. Usually you’ve spent the whole night curled up in my arms – so we stretch to greet the day and cuddle and purr and you “make muffins” on the softest blanket you can reach. You squint your eyes and lift your chin and give so many kisses. This is the time I feel most connected to you and know how much you love us and that you know we love you. I know you know how much we love you, Pig.
If daddy gets up early for the gym you usually get off the bed to be with him until he leaves. Sometimes when he leaves you cry at the door because you miss him and I call you in to cuddle.
Sometimes you wait patiently for me to wake up and the second you hear my voice or sense me move you jump up with so much joy to start luh-ing time and I can’t imagine a better way to start my day. The other day you were curled up in a trance in your cabinet, how you have been since we brought you home last week, and you heard my voice when I woke up and you meowed. I saw you for that moment and Daddy brought you in the bed and even though luh-ing hour wasn’t as long as usual because you don’t feel well we got some purrs in and I know you felt our love. It gave me so much hope.
I am trying to hold on to that now.
After luh-ing hour you want food. NOW. You yell and yell until someone feeds you and tells you you’re pretty.
You luh cold, fresh water and prefer to drink it out of a glass, thank you very much.
You have the funniest leg twitch that happens when your tongue touches the water the first few times. It still happens sometimes in this chaos and Daddy and I look at each other and laugh. It happens to you when you get excited about something or distracted. A little flick of your front right wrist that is so adorable I can’t even put it into words.
Most of yout day is spent napping, obviously. Occasionally you get up and check in with us if we are home. Sometimes you go out on the balcony for your favorite activity- sitting ousside, uh looking inside. You will only go on the balcony when we are home, even if we leave the door open for you. I think you need us there to feel safe.
Speaking of which- remember when we first moved here and you fell off the balcony?! I will never forget it. I saw you tip over the edge while rubbing your neck all over the stucco- I jumped up and shrieked and spilled tea everywhere and you dad leapt up to save you. You caught yourself and he pulled you back up and you KNEW something super scary had happened. You ran inside and laid on the ground and as crazy as people thought we were to still let you out there you never did it again. Because we know you better than anyone, Pig, and we know you’re smarter than that and you learned your lesson. I’ll never forget the image of your two little black paws hanging onto the rail for dear life. Jesus lol.
As I mentioned- if we’ve been gone for the day you greet us and tell us all about the busy day you had- napping, no doubt. You want cuddles and probably food and now that your people are home you want to go on the balcony. Then, it’s shower time.
This developed in the last few years- you have to sit in-between the shower curtains whenever someone is showering. You don’t talk much, just stand guard and will play with our fingers if we tap the curtain. Sometimes you stick in your head and accept some wet kisses or lick some water droplets off our hand. And as soon as we are done you’re done with your duty, and ready to have a cuddle sesh.
The latest thing you’ve learned is “more pets.” It’s quite amazing actually. You’ve learned how to physically communicate with us and when we scratch your back if you aren’t ready to be done you paw the ground mimicking how we pet you- demanding a continuation of pets unto you’ve had your fill.
And ohhhhh stretches. You love being held like a baby, and Daddy and I sometimes hold you by your armpits and stretch you out so your feets dangle and your belly opens. You’re almost as tall as me when I hold you like this. You are a big girl. Not so much now, you don’t feel like eating so you’re losing a lot of weight. It breaks my heart when you don’t even want your treats.
We always fall asleep together. We curl up in bed, both our heads on my pillow. You usually wrap your little arms around my arm and we drift away to dreamland. This is something I miss most now that you aren’t feeling well. You don’t really want to be near us and I try to give you your space but it hurts so much to not be able to touch you often.
You have so many different meows. You have an entire language and we speak it- mostly because you are so smart and so clear about what you are communicating. You tell us when you’re happy, nervous, excited, updating us or are irritated with us. So many sounds. Chirps and whirrs and wrow-wrowwws and they all mean different things. That’s why we started calling you pig the last few years- so many noises sound like a pig oinking and snuffling about. An ACTUAL pig was in the hospital with you this last time and I could tell you were very offended.
You like chicken and turkey over fish. You like sweets over meats. You are the only person insane like your mama who will attack someone for some frozen pie crust from Trader Joe’s. Yes, you are a person to me. The only thing you’re missing is thumbs. Daddy and I make jokes about it all the time – like how you never do anything for this family and you would do the dishes but you don’t have any thumbs. We have a lot of friends, obviously.
You have been with us through so many life stages. We’ve lived in 3 different apartments in 3 areas of LA- plus Grandma and Grandpa’s house for vacations. You were there for our engagement and our wedding. We both talked about you in our wedding vows even though we hadn’t discussed it. You are our whole heart. You were there through my skin cancer and my Mom’s cancer and so many more of life’s ups and downs.
You’ve had so many names over the years. Your “real” name is Mia. But you’ve been The Bitch, Biz, Fluffy Bunny Bitch, Bun, Bunkin, Bunkin-Punkin, Nuggle, Nug-Pig, Nug-Piglet and now, Pig. I’m sure there are more I can’t even remember.
You are my little soul cat and I know we are connected on a level I don’t quite have the capacity to understand. I think that’s part of why I’m so devastated seeing you like this- so weak you can barely open or close your eyes most of the time, so frail when you’re usually so strong, not interested in food or love or cuddles or any of the things that usually bring you so much joy.
I feel like a part of me is cracking apart every time I look at you and you don’t look like “you”. I’m trying so hard to stay strong for you. To stay positive for you. Mark says to only hold space for your healing and I believe that with all my heart, I’m trying.
But I’m afraid, Pig. I’m so, so, so afraid because I can’t lose you. It’s way too soon.
I know that one day we will have to say goodbye but this is not that day! It’s not that year or even DECADE, if you ask me!
We have been working so hard to get you a house with a yard. We just learned you won’t be able to use it due to your disease but that’s beside the point. You have to make the move with us to our first family home. You have to be there when we have a baby. They have to meet you. You are my baby now and forever but I need your soul to meet our little human soul one day so they can know you in their heart. I’ve always thought this was a given, Pig. It will be. It has to be. You are so, so strong. You can do this.
Did you see the kitty in the cage next to you in the hospital? He was 10 years older than you and sassy AF still. That can be you. That will be you.
I love you so much I could write a book. I basically just did, and I know I’m leaving out so many special moments and unique traits because you are just absolutely THE most special creature I’ve ever known. I had to get this all down for you and for me and for us. Maybe I can add to it as I remember more special things about you, and hoping I can add so many years of memories on our road ahead.
I love you, sweet Pig. With my whole heart.
