At 2:40 p.m. today, Twirl will take her last breath of air. She is 12 days short of celebrating her ear-removal surgery with us, and will fall 5 days short of her arrival date anniversary. Had she been in the care of a loving pet owner someone who actually gave a shit about white cats and the dangers of the sun before she arrived here, perhaps her outcome would have been different.

The biopsy showed that in all the fragments taken from her ear, they do reveal infiltrative squamous cell carcinoma. It has also invaded her parotid salivary glands and lymph nodes. Her condition is guarded, but the cancer extends over all normal margins.

I can’t see prolonging the evitable. Squamous cell carcinoma is aggressive, invasive and to keep her alive (is she suffering?) I don’t know if she is or not, but I do know that I do not wish her to even start. At 4 years old, I suspect the first 3 years of her life, that she suffered more than most could endure. Euthinasia is a kinder means to let her know that someone cares enough in the end to let her go with dignity.

Sadness is a funny creature. It creeps up on me suddenly and my heart becomes heavy. My eyes are filled with tears over this beautiful white kitty’s life coming to a quicker end than it should. It seems that no matter how long I have them here, they all retain the ability to capture my heart, enslave my spirit and as they leave – they take a piece of me with them.

I had hoped she would find a home filled with love for only her, with no other cats so she wouldn’t have to be on the defensive all the time. Those absent ear flaps have made her in perpetual rumble-mode- even though she is a love and doesn’t have an aggressive bone in her body.

She has been grumpy lately- I should have taken it as a sign things were not well with her. But, the vet assures me that even if the tumor had been benign, removing it would have not been possible without causing major facial paralysis and her not being able to turn her head.

So fly dear Twirl, up to the heavens and leap onto the lap of the Almighty. Reward his goodness with that of your own, those treasured headbumps, those scratchy kisses and your magnificent purr. He is all that is Good and Holy and you are pure in your white spirit. May your spirit soar as you join all those who went before you. Find that special little boy who I know is waiting. He is a big part of who I once was, and a bigger part of who I am now. Purr into his ear and tell him his Mom misses him terribly and you will comfort him until I can join you.

Go with God in your final moment and know that the candle burning brightly in my window shines as bright as your soul that will be departing this earth this day. I love you and will miss you every waking moment of every day until we are together again- I tried my best, but sometimes, you just can’t win. No matter how badly you want to.

It is now 7:34 p.m. and Twirl slipped off into eternal slumber peacefully without protest. She is now settled under the long meadow grasses. There are dry flowers, dry grass, pinecone laden tree limbs laid on top of her final resting spot. The tumor had grown since the initial visit and spread. Like the one vet said, “once we wake up a tumor, we can really piss off the cancer and it will respond aggressively.” I was assured that Twirl was feeling only slight discomfort at this stage and the real pain was waiting just around the corner.

It was a solo journey for me with Twirl as Mike stayed home at my directive. This was something I wanted to do, to share the last moments with her. To once again for the last time, wear that coveted coat of white as she shed all over me in the clinic.

I love you Twirl, I just wish I could have loved you longer-