If I had one day to spend with someone who’s gone before me, it would be with my beloved cat, Maggie Rose. I would not be doing things I wish I had done. I would just relive one day as we knew it.






Maggie was born on March 26, 1993, a tiny little polydactyl calico kitty. Her life ended on May 12, 2006.





If I could have just one more day with her, I would wake in the morning and she would crawl up on to my chest and I would sing the second verse of a campfire song to her: “Because God made the stars to shine; because God made the ivy twine; because God made the sky so blue; because God made you, that’s why I love you. Good morning Miss Maggie.”





She would watch me shower and then I would leave the water on at a trickle and she would jump in the tub when I got out.

I would sit in the yard with her one more time and watch her chase her chipmunk and the butterflies. I would drink in the comfort she brought me while she waltzed through the flowers. I would feel the depth of her love for padding around on the grass.





If I could have just one more day with her, I would take my shoelace out and watch her dance with joy while trying to “catch” it.

I would watch her lazing in the window, soaking up the sun, without a care in the world.





I would giggle again at the way she would pound on the cupboard door for a treat and at the way she would growl at her tail.





I would hold her in my lap and listen to the soothing music of her purr.

I would tell her how beautiful she is and how she will be mommy’s little girl forever.

I would make a tent out of our special blanket and play peek-a-boo and hide and seek with her.

I would open a couple of dresser drawers and let her choose which one she wanted to nest in. I loved watching her root through the clothes and settle into a drawer.





Then when the darkness of night settled in, I would take her outdoors once more before bedtime and sit in the yard where we would gaze at the stars and the moon and listen to the crickets. All the stars are really holes in the sky where the lights of fur babies are glowing down on earth.

After gazing at the Heavens, we would come in and get ready for bed. I would turn the light out, same as always, and climb in bed and say “night night, Maggie Rose.” In a matter of seconds, I would feel the thump of her jumping on to the bed and I would feel her body settling in by my legs and she would purr me to sleep.





If I could have one more day with her – just one more day.

I would give anything to spend one more day with her. Time alone does not take away the ache for her presence. We pay a price for love.

I love you Maggie Rose – forever and ever.

Mommy







The greatest love of my life was my little calico girl. I picked her out when she was two days old. She became my kindred spirit.



In life, Maggie Rose was afraid of lots of things, such as the vacuum cleaner, the lawn mower, the basement, thunderstorms, dogs, and plastic bags and I protected her from these. Sadly, I could not protect her from death.



In the 9th year of her life, Maggie Rose was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and an enlarged heart. She was medicated, syringe fed, suffered through seizures and coughing and choking spells, made several trips to the vet, had several x-rays, many bloodwork drawings – finally, her heart became so enlarged it was pressing on her breathing organs. She was wheezing and breathing with difficulty. Her death rattle became louder. She had no strength. She had stopped eating, throwing up her syringe feedings. She was in kidney failure. Her eyes looked to the beyond. And I had to make the terrible decision that ended her suffering. I held her in my arms for the last time and felt her last breath leave my soul. I cradled her all the way to the crematorium soaking her beautiful coat of many colors with my tears. My own pain has not stopped since that awful day of May 12, 2006. She was 13 years old.























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