Sonia

Sonia was one of those extraordinarily special cats (not that I don't believe that each and every one of my guys is, mind you.  But there are some you just *know* are above and beyond, and she was one of those).

I named her after feminist activist Sonia Johnson, which should have prepared me for her intensity and strength, which was immense.  Her name, of course, got terribly bastardized.  Mostly it was just "Sony" (and there was the wonderful joke that she was our "black and white Sony" because, indeed, that was her coloring).  She was also Sony-bird and Birdy (that chirping sound she made was amazing).

I found her in my old apartment building one day as I was rushing out to return recordings to the library and rush off to the State Fair.  Someone had tossed out dry cat food into the hallway, which she was munching with great glee.  I stopped to say hello and introduce myself, and she responded briefly before going back to enjoying her lunch.

I loaded the library items in the car, but couldn't get her out of my mind.  I went back in, and spent some time petting her, sitting with her, as she ate.  It was a hot August day and, believe me, I got some very dirty looks from the librarians when I returned the items rather warm.

I couldn't just leave her there.  After she was done eating, I scooped her up, and took her upstairs.  I had to meet my friend to go the Fair, and I held my breath as I dumped her into the apartment with three adult cats looking at her with angry eyes.  Definitely *not* the best introduction, but I had no idea what else to do at the time.

My friend and I went to the Fair, and I came back home with trepidation, hoping that I would not find a dead kitten.  Not only was she quite alive, but she had three adult cats cowering before her when I arrived!  The Top Cat in my little household had finally arrived.

She was a fiery little thing, although I determined she was a Taurus/Gemini cusp.  She was stubborn, and extraordinarily talkative.  I gave her May 20th as a birthdate.

She had huge eyes, and was one of the funniest cats I've ever known.  She would sit down when my ex and I would play Trivial Pursuit, wait her turn (I swear!), and then bat the dice.  If I yelled at her "Get off of the table"  she would go "Meow-meow-meow-meow" with such an attitude, it was clear she was saying "Oh, bite me!"

My ex had a dream about her once.  He was leaving the apartment and clearly heard a little voice asking, "Where are you going?"  He looked around, no one was there.  He started to leave again, and heard the same question.  He looked at Sonia.  Sure enough, she was speaking to him.  If I've ever met a cat who could speak human, it would have been Sonia.

She was incredibly bright and intelligent.  She was a little cat, never got very big, with short black-and-white fur and huge eyes.  I believe she was born in the apartment building (there was a cat that had had kittens who looked suspiciously like her).  I put up a "found" sign, but no one ever claimed her.

Tiki hated her guts. Circe adored her, and they bathed each other ravenously (until the inevitable "That's enough!  Now I'm going to bite you!" phase occurred). Geesha didn't quite know what to think, but they got along quite well.

Sonia was the only cat I trusted to be let outside on her own, after the first two.  It wasn't quite on her own; I would only let her out when I was sitting out back and enjoying my garden.  I walked with her dozens of times, and she never ran, but stayed close to me.  Eventually, I allowed her to go on her own as I sat on the porch and watched her, and she never wandered far, and always came back when I called her.  She adored being out back in the garden.

She was also a holy terror when she was a kitten, to the point where I sometimes felt like "This kitten is out of control, and I cannot keep her!"  I actually tried a few times to find her another home, but nothing ever came of it.  Apparently, she was meant to be with me.

Obviously, she did calm down a bit.  Not that she ever lost her attitude!  It became very hard to get angry at her, though, with her adorable little face and her ticked-off voice going "I don't *think* so!"  She brought a great deal of laughter (some of it concealed so as not to offend Her Highness).

She was extremely playful.  She actually would play fetch with a crumpled up cigarette package, and would even catch it in her paws in the air if you threw it to her.

Right around the time she caught her first mouse (our building had had a problem since my ex and I had moved in), my ex noticed she seemed a little thin.  She was always small, but she did seem to have lost some weight, although her appetite was still good.  We decided to watch her for a few days, and then decide if we should take her into the vet (she had just had her shots and a checkup about six months earlier, and she was only 7-1/2 years old).

We took her into the vet, who examined her, and asked to keep her overnight to run some tests.  The next day, I called him from a psychiatric hospital out of town where we were visiting my bipolar brother, and he gave me the horrible news:  she had cancer.

We took her into the local university veterinarian teaching clinic/hospital for more tests.  They would have to do exploratory surgery.  It wasn't good.  She had advanced cancer throughout her system, and it was inoperable.  We could buy her some time with chemotherapy, but that was about it.

I opted for the chemo treatments.  I have no idea why, other than the fact that the vets were not totally clear, in my opinion, and direct enough with me.  What I wish they had said was "She's terminal.  Chemo will only put her through more misery.  Take her home and when it is apparent she is in too much pain, have her euthanized.  That's the best thing to do."  That isn't what they said, though, and I maxed out my credit and put her through who knows what sort of hell, which I still feel horrible about.

She was immensely strong, though, and took it well.  Everyone at the clinic fell in love with her.  Shortly before Thanksgiving, I waited for what seemed like an eternity to take her home from her treatment at the clinic.  The woman who brought Sonia out to me apologized for taking so long, but she said everyone had wanted to say goodbye to Sonia.

I knew the end was near.  Oddly, right before Thanksgiving, Sonia actually tried to catch a squirrel out back!  It was amazing.

Then she went downhill quickly.  I knew it was time one night, and told my husband the next day.  He wanted anther day with her, so we waited one more day.

The day we took her in, she couldn't stand.  We wondered if she would even live to get to the vet's to release her from her misery.  The vet took one look at her said "It's time, isn't it?" and I nodded yes.  I had never had to have a cat put down before.  The only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted to be there with her.

The reason I wanted to be with her is a digression, but I think it's important.  Several years before losing Sonia, I had been coming back from a date with a friend to his apartment.  We parked and saw a small circle of people standing on the sidewalk, looking down at something.  I looked closer, and saw a dog.  I ran across the street.  These people were all looking at this injured dog, doing nothing, acting as though this was something fascinating (I found out later from my date that they were Scientologists, which is why I do not care for Scientologists to this day).  I petted the dog, and knew he had internal injuries (you could see blood collecting under the skin on his belly).  Someone uncaring, unfeeling poor excuse for a human being had hit him with a car and taken off.  He was a sweet little dachshund named Max, according to his collar.  I asked the Scientologists, none of whom claimed to know where the dog belonged.  It wasn't my neighborhood, so I had no idea.  I took his collar off, and ordered one of the Scientologists to go call the number (get out of my way and do what I tell you when it's an animal crisis!).  He came back, but said there was no answer.  I laid the collar down next to him, and petted him, trying to figure out what to do, when I knew he was going.  I was ready to ask my date to rush him to the emergency vet hospital, but I realized he wasn't going to make it.  He looked up with big, beautiful soft eyes, and I petted him and talked to him gently.  I felt that he was glad I was there, for some reason, that at least he was glad someone was telling him they cared about him.  He took a few deep breaths, and passed.

I have intuitive ability, which is where some of those feelings came from.  It doesn't always work with my guys, because I am so emotionally invested with them, I can't see things objectively from an intuitive perspective.  I felt that I should leave the dog there, although that seemed cruel.  I knew he was from close by, and that his human would come home soon and at least know what had happened and be able to bury or cremate him.

The next day I went to work.  A co-worker was crying.  I assumed her boyfriend had been assaulting her again, so I didn't ask about it.

We all went out to lunch that day.  Someone made a crass comment about animals, and I flew into a rage (after the previous night, I wasn't in the mood to listen to this), mentioning how horrible people are, and mentioning that previous night.  My crying co-worker stared at me.  "Where was this?" she asked.  I told her.  "That was my dog," she said.  Her ex actually had gotten custody of the dog when they split, but he had called her about it when he arrived home and found Max.  I was able to tell her what had happened, and reassure her that he did not suffer long, and that someone was there who cared when he passed.

This is why I knew I had to be with Sonia.  I knew it mattered.

I petted her, and kissed her, and felt her little heart under my hand as the vet gave her the shot.  I asked him how long it would take; he said she was already gone.  I kissed her goodbye again, and left the room.

It took me months to stop crying about her.  She had  been so special, so extraordinary, and was gone so young.  I waited too long to let her go, and put her through too much in the meantime.  And yet her spirit bore it all with all the strength and grace she had.

Her remains rest on the mantle, along with all the others.  I sprinkled a little of them in the garden that she so loved.

I know she's been back, but I haven't seen her since shortly before we lost Tiki, so I think she has been re-born.  Maybe somewhere, someone kind and loving has an extraordinary cat that amazes them.  Or knowing Sonia (whom I swear was half-human), perhaps she's someone's beloved young child now, with wide eyes, and a bright spirit and intelligence that won't quit.  Whichever way, I'm sure she's brightening up someone else's life with her amazing spirit.
 

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