On May 28, 2001, my cat Choie (rhymes with "Joey") died at the age of 19. Until she was diagnosed with cancer a month earlier, she had been extremely lively and perky - not at all what you'd expect from a cat of her mature age. We were blessed to know her as long as we did, but after spending so many years with this eccentric little creature, I am achingly bereft without my cat.

Below are my thoughts about how she came into my life, an image of her adorable face,
a poem about how I feel now that she's gone, and a final word about one way to deal with the loss of a pet.

She appeared literally on our doorstep in the muggy summer of 1983. I'd never been very fond of cats, never having had one before. But she was small and hungry, and I wanted to give her something to eat. My mother warned me against it, and she wouldn't let me bring the cat into the house (our dog, Killy, wouldn't have appreciated the company). But I brought the cat a can of tuna. Sure enough, the next day, the cat was back, and I was hooked...

So I brought the cat into my bedroom and promised to keep her there. This wasn't much of a problem, because this cat was no brave explorer. She was afraid of people, that much was certain. Whether she'd been mistreated, or was simply unfamiliar with humans, I'm not sure.

Luckily, other than her fear, she seemed fairly healthy. This was not a housetrained cat, though -- my quilt became unusable after a few days! Took her a while to figure out the use of the big plastic box with newspaper in it. Mom went to the police to see if anyone had reported a missing cat, but fortunately no one had. By that time, it was clear -- the cat was staying.

Kim fell in love with her too, and we tried to think of a good name for the little black cat with big eyes and skittish manner. Being pretentious young opera fans, we tried to think of some appropriate character to use as a namesake. We settled on Cio-Cio San (pronounced Cho-Cho-Sahn), aka Madame Butterfly. Like our cat, the character is petite, delicate, shy, and sweet. It seemed to be a perfect match, even though I secretly felt that the name was a bit cumbersome! After a little while, we settled with Cio-Cio, or (as I prefer to spell it) Cho-Cho. Even more often, I called her Choie (rhymes with Joey).

For the next 18 years she became my dearest companion and soul mate. My sweet little black cat with the warm belly became amazingly friendly and trusting, at least with me and, eventually, Kim. Even on her last day, she wanted to be with me. In her final moments she was nestled under my chin, paw wrapped over my wrist, her thin body still soft and pliant next to my heart.

And next to my heart is where she'll remain.

I wrote this poem for Choie's funeral,
which took place on June 2, 2001
at Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in Hartsdale, NY.
I read it at the gravesite with my sisters
in attendance.

For Choie
by Kira Lerner

The pillow beside me is empty
where a sweet little cat slept at night,
her body a fuzzy black circle,
her head tucked away out of sight.

I still have some cat food uneaten.
My lap waits for her to alight.
My mind hums with songs written for her,
but singing them doesn't feel right.

No white paws pad over to greet me,
no meow tells of her hungry plight.
And no one jumps onto the couch arm
to sit on my chest while I write.

You've left me, but never completely,
no matter how distant your flight.
Though you live in some new dimension,
in my heart I still hold you tight.

And if there's a God who can hear me,
He'll let us someday reunite,
so the pillow beside me is once more
where a sweet little cat sleeps at night.

About Pet Funerals

If you've never thought of giving your pet a funeral when the unfortunate need arises, I highly recommend it. Though I can only speak for myself and my sisters, and with the experience at Hartsdale Cemetery (a remarkably lovely place), I feel it is an oddly comforting ritual that helps validate the grief that pet lovers feel at the loss of their companions.

At Hartsdale, Choie and my other family cats were treated with the utmost dignity by the sensitive workers. Also, seeing hundreds of lovingly tended gravesites helps remind you that other people feel the same love and familial bond to their pets as you do to yours.

In fact, the gravestones themselves provide much-needed affectionate humor as you walk past them. Seeing the amusing names and sweet nicknames given to cats, dogs, horses and other animals ... well, it was impossible not to smile with warm recognition at the doting that goes on between owner and animal!

My sisters and I did plenty of crying followed by gentle laughter as we walked from Choie's grave, and the comfort that resulted was almost like a tangible hug of encouragement from the generations of animal lovers whose love was represented among the graves.

- Kira Lerner