Mr. Scraggles

She was all skin and bones when we found her.

Bleeding from one ear, walking with a limp and calling out to us from behind the house.

She had the most interesting meow - loud and forceful, even in her emaciated state.

We took her to the vet and they told us they could "make her comfortable" but she'd likely not last the week.

We decided to take her home. We could make her comfortable there too.

Our tiny bathroom in a little house in West Allis became her sanctuary for most of the next week.

We set up a humidifier to help clear the sinus infection she had. Fed her some good cat food and gave her lots of love.

That was more than 21 years ago.

Her name was Scraggles. Because she was such a scraggly cat when we found her.

Mr. Scraggles to be exact. My now ex-husband started calling her that almost right away. Because he didn't know if she was a boy or a girl at first.

Scraggles had a way about her. Life was on her terms.

She let you pet her when she wanted to be petted (that's probably a cat thing in general), and you knew it when she needed something.

She didn't like to be picked up, but we picked her up anyway. We lovingly called it "forced cuddling" when we'd scoop her up and pet her until she scrambled out of our arms.

When people came over, she'd make her entrance and "yell" at them with that unique meow of hers.

And she'd leave cat hair on all of the chairs so everyone took a little bit of her home with them.

We had to put Scraggles down a few days ago.

Her lungs were filled with fluid and she couldn't breathe. Her heart and body had finally decided they had been working long enough.

We think she was more than 23 years old.

The vet couldn't tell her exact age when we first found her, but thought she was a year and a half, maybe two at the time.

She lived a good life. Surrounded by people who loved her.

Her passing felt like the ending of a pretty important chapter in my book.

She had been a mainstay in our lives, through marriage, divorce, remarriage, and the entire lives of our two boys.

She was always there. Cocking her head to the side and meowing at us all along the way.

I'm grateful I was able to be there to say goodbye.

Grateful for the relationship I have with the boys' stepmother and that she called me from the vet to tell me it was time.

Grateful that I could stand there next to my ex-husband and his new wife, without animosity, just to be there for our cat at the end of her very long life.

Grateful that we could take turns petting her and that we could cry together as the sedation helped her drift off to sleep on the table.

Farewell Mr. Scraggles - we'll miss you so very much.

Thanks for being with us on this journey.

Thanks for teaching us so much.

And loving us along the way.

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