The other day I grabbed a pair of knitting needles that I hadn’t used in a while. As I began to cast on I noticed tiny little bite marks in the tips, complements of my tiny little girl, Marbles. Marbles of course is a cat.
Marbles passed away on December 28, 2010, marking a horribly crappy end to a horrific year. After eating her dinner she started acting strange, dragging her back legs and meowing. When we rushed her to the emergency vet (I was in FL visiting my parents) the vet told us she had cardiomyopathy and a blood clot had paralyzed her from the legs down. There was no cure and heart failure was next. Sobbing, I had to make the hardest decision of my life and signed the papers to put her down.
I miss Marbles terribly. For the past 6 years she’s been my constant companion, from waking me up in the morning to falling asleep in the crook of my knee at night. She was my family when my husband left and was going to be my partner in adventure in Argentina. Of all of the loss I’ve experienced in the past year, she is the only thing I miss.
Marbles had an affinity for water.
Marbles helping design the Conundrum hat.
There are reminders of Marbles all over; in the things I do during the day to physical reminders, like her little harness (for outside time) and photographs. When I work out in the morning I see her lying next to me on her back with her two little fangs poking out of her mouth. When I go to feed Patches I imagine Marbles sitting there, waiting patiently for her breakfast and dinner. When I look at the girls' water dish I see Marbles splashing around in it. When I see her empty circle bed, I think fondly about how she spent 10+ hours in it a day. And when I knit with the needles with the tiny little bite marks, Marbles is there with me, even if her body is not.