Helena, who unlike some of our other animals went by a singular name – much like Charo, Adele, and Eminem – passed away peacefully Monday afternoon after what amounted to 5 years in “kitty retirement” with us. As she was a semiferal cat when we took her in around Thanksgiving 2018, we’re unclear on her exact age, though we suspect she was at least 10 or 12 years old.
(And actually, I lied. We gave her a zillion silly nicknames: Lady Lardbottom, Lady Sparklebutt, Cottonbutt, Señorita Slushbottom, Sister Mary Elephant. Yes, there’s a theme. I guess fatshaming is okay if it’s a cat.)
We got her 5 years ago when Chris saw a social media post from a lady a few blocks away who wanted to find a cat a good home. She said it belonged to her next door neighbor, an older woman who had died; the cat ended up living in some adjacent woods, and the social media poster was feeding the cat but couldn’t bring it in the house with her other cats. It was November, so the lady was worried about the cat, which she named Helena – a variant of her late neighbor’s name, Helen.
So, we adopted Helena, who ended up hiding in our basement for a few months, surfacing only for food and water. It wasn’t until the following spring that she eventually showed up and decided to join the rest of the family; thus began the rest of her years napping on the recliner, napping on the sofa, napping on whatever lap or cushion she could find – and being carried up and down stairs by a little girl who is forever smitten with cats.
Helena also put up gracefully with occasional costuming humiliations at the hands of that now-teenager.
When cats decline, they seem to do so quickly. We took her to the vet only a few weeks ago for respiratory issues, and she went downhill fast from there.
Helena was at once elegant, cranky, and ridiculous. (Like most cats, I suppose.) We loved her. Thanks for sharing your retirement with us, old girl.
