Ode to Gracie

Well, today’s post is coming in late but it’s coming in!

I am so thankful to all of you for your many encouragements – those posted and those that came through texts and phone calls filled with love! They keep me going – more than you could ever realize.

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Well, it may seem like a silly thing to write about but I really can’t help it…it’s the biggest thing on my mind and heart right now. I’m sorry it will probably bum you out in the process but I must preface this writing by telling you my poor little kitty, Gracie passed away today.

She was a quirky kitty and everyone that knew her knew that. If you wouldn’t mind indulging me, I’d like to talk a bit about her and how she came into my life.

I’m not super good with time frames but I believe it was sometime between 2003 and 2004. I was at the church I grew up in – a beautiful country church where the side doors were often propped open during nice weather. In walked a little cat – a Maine Coon cat to be exact (I learned that later on).

So, I figured this kitty liked to attend mass. She was quite vocal about it too. Gracie never had a problem using her voice.

The priest was upset she had made her way back inside the building. I scooped her up and I remember him wagging his finger at her, emphatically scolding and telling her she was a bad cat who should learn how to catch her own food instead of snooping around the church. I was offended for the poor little thing.

Now, I remember my mom was with me. This is not a promising team if you’re looking for one who won’t cave when an animal is in need. We have adopted everything. It doesn’t matter if it is a cat or a dog or a skunk. If it’s in need, we are stepping in.

We both decided, since she clearly was not welcome at the church, we would make other arrangements for her. Gracie, nameless and homeless at the time, was all too happy to stay curled up in my mom’s arms as we drove her home. She was always happiest in an embrace.

As we were driving away from the church that day and I was making little sideways glances toward our new passenger, I remember thinking, I absolutely can’t adopt that cat. I already had Roman at home, a stray who had come into my life my junior year in college and is, in fact, still very much in my life. He’s old but still incredibly playful.

I was a single girl in her twenties, living on her own. I certainly didn’t want that dreaded “cat-lady” stigma hanging over my otherwise cool head. As we all know, it starts the moment you go multiple. I sooooo did not want multiple cats.

But my parents had already met their limit with pets (as well as everyone else in my big hearted family) and no one else seemed to want this highly vocal and extremely affectionate little Maine Coon. She somewhat reluctantly became mine.

Now, I knew she needed a faith-based name. Any kitty who would be so diligent about church attendance shouldn’t have it any other way. I thought about “Faith” but it didn’t stick. And then in one moment, shortly after she made herself at home with me and Roman, she went to do something I didn’t approve of and I shouted, “Grace!” – honestly, that’s how she got her name. I went to shout “Faith” and I shouted “Grace” instead.

On Gracie’s first vet appointment, I learned that she already had a fractured bone in her hip (probably from being kicked), two pellets from a pellet gun lodged in her other hip and babies in her belly. She wasn’t even a year old by doctor’s estimate. That’s a lot for such a young life.

I made plans for her babies and started finding them homes. I didn’t know how many were coming but I remember thinking I had better start asking around lest I REALLY become a cat lady. Anymore than 2 and I might as well start wearing sweatshirts with cat faces on the front and giving up on ever having a date again. The irony of that statement isn’t lost on those who know I ended up taking in one more stray years after Gracie.

I did have some people lined up and interested in kittens. We excitedly waited. But poor little Gracie lost all her babies. The doctor said it was not surprising because she really had been through a lot.

Gracie was quirky as I mentioned. My best friend called her a “wild card” because she would have little outbursts out of nowhere where she’d rapidly swat at you about ten times and then run away – this after having been lying peacefully on your lap seconds before. It was more funny than anything. She never hurt anyone but would certainly stun them with that move. I think it was because that one spot on her hip was sensitive and if you came close, it would launch her into combat.

She always loved to cuddle and if your hand wasn’t on her body or face, she’d grab your arm, tightly wrapping her little front arms and paws around it and with all her might, pull you to her. People LOVED that move! It was quite literally one of the cutest things anyone had ever seen. By the way, if that move didn’t work, she’d crawl up your front and put her little wet nose on yours. Or she’d continuously nudge your head with her own until you realized ignoring her was futile.

If the kitties ran out of food before I got home from work, I could hear Gracie’s wail from outside the house. That poor little girl never liked an empty food bowl – I think it reminded her too much of her homeless, sneaking into churches days. At one point, she got plump enough that when she’d lay back on the couch like a little human, her little round belly would plop out in front of her. It was around that time I started affectionately calling her “Grace-Grace” in the same voice that the little “Gus-Gus” mouse in Cinderella would use. Grace-Grace and Gus-Gus were one in the same. If Gracie wore a little t-shirt, hers too would slide up over her belly.

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the face of a Maine Coon. Google them. They are really quite exquisite. It looks like God lovingly sits down to paint each tiny face by hand. Their stripes and bright white eyeliner have such perfect application. Gracie was quite beautiful.

And she was so sweet. And she will be missed.

My family will help me bury her in the woods behind my mom and dad’s house where countless other beloved pets have been buried and they will remind me lovingly that I gave her a good life. They will tell me that Gracie was a little orphan who nobody wanted and that she had the best possible life she could have by coming home with me.

This will be sweet comfort as I remember my little Gracie, quirks and all, and how she brought a lot of laughs and cuddles into my world, often times when I needed them most. I don’t even mind having become a “cat lady” for her. She was worth it.