The Small Girl Who Made A Huge Difference

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The first day of 2024 wasn’t a good day for my family. We lost our 15-year old cat, who throughout her life had multifarious names, even if she ended it as Smaw Gurr, short for Small Girl.
This distinguished her from Big Budder, or Big Brother, the older tomcat we had then. Say what you want about the Adzhar brood, but the younger members are very good at naming pets and confusing veterinarian clinics (and often ourselves) with this unique skill.
It was one fine morning in 2009 when the fabled Cat Distribution System struck. A scrawny, sick and possibly dying kitten crawled through the gate, looked at me and probably told herself “this family looks a bit low-rent, but it’ll do”.
I had cats while I was growing up, but not in my own home for a long while because some of my children were allergic to them. Some grew out of it, though my youngest never did. But she nevertheless loves our furry companions with a fierce kind of love that ignores sneezes and rashes, and even halfway around the world away, was the official “guardian” of Smaw Gurr.
We started sharing the house with cats (and up in the rafters, definitely a civet cat too) about 20 years ago. Big Budder was an early one, but died too soon of an illness when I was away travelling.
In the 15 years of Smaw Gurr’s life, we had a few others, though tomcat Calvin disappeared after 10 years with us, and Harry, a ginger kitten, was killed by something wild outside of the house.
But Smaw Gurr was a constant presence. She seemed to have a permanent trauma from her early life, and never seemed to grow out of it. That, combined with super sharp teeth, sent me for medical treatment twice from her bites.
I love watching cats live their life the way they want to. We’re not “offended” about being their staff or servants in our own home. The ancient Egyptians certainly knew this when they worshipped cats as gods eons ago.
All our cats are or were rescued animals. Buying them when there’s a surplus of animals in need of a good home seems somehow wrong to me.
That some cats can be “branded” as “pure breed” and hence priced higher is demeaning and downright horrible.
The pleasure from a cat or a dog is totally unconnected to whether they’re mongrels or exclusive breeds. If you actually get your kick from paying big money for some horrible traits like flat noses or short legs, which are actually health hazards to the animals, then I’m inclined to think there’s something very sad about your life.
As our kids grew up and left home, having pets in the “empty nest” became very comforting. There, Smaw Gurr, with her lack of adventure and drama, was the perfect companion for us.
She constantly reminded me of my late mother, who in her old age tended to just sit and observe her family going on with their lives with her big, round eyes and a degree of detachment I haven’t quite managed to acquire just yet.
A couple of years ago, signs of old age and illness appeared in Smaw Gurr. Her kidney started going, and vet visits became regular. She lost weight in spite of whatever expensive food we gave her, including her favourite, fried fish.
Last December, she had to be force-fed. The week before new year, she stopped eating altogether, and seemed to exist in a living coma. We knew it wasn’t far from the end.
I travelled a lot in 2023, always half expecting to hear from home that she had gone. But that didn’t happen and I was grateful for it. But on the first day of 2024, we knew the end was near. The young vet kindly told us that it was a matter of days, but didn’t bring up the matter of putting her to sleep because some owners didn’t care for that.
We didn’t want her to suffer, even if at times I thought she was already beyond suffering. We asked the vet to put her to sleep.
The actual putting of the needle in her wasn’t easy because she’s so thin, and it caused her pain which tore at our hearts. But I decided to be there right until the end, and her favourite human, my wife, was right there too.

I held Smaw Gurr’s head and watched her go. She became quiet and limp, and I literally saw the light go out of her eyes. There were plenty of tears in the vet’s room, not least from me, but I wanted her “family” to be her last sight on earth, and I think that happened.
Strangely after she died, I felt the sadness lift a bit. It was no longer the fear and worry and uncertainty: for whatever it’s worth, she’s no longer in pain, and hopefully is in a better place now.
We took her home and I buried her in a hole I dug right beside the house, near the corner where in her old age she liked to sit and soak up the sun. I wrapped her body of skin and bones in one of my old t-shirts. She looked like she was sleeping, and that’s a good way to remember her.
The vet thanked us for entrusting her care to him. I’m not sure whether they’re taught to say that at the vet school, but that was very gracious and calming and was much appreciated.
Cats and dogs are often family for many people. Their lifecycle is such that you watch them get born, grow into adulthood and old age and die in a fraction of your own lifetime. This almost guarantees sorrow for many, and we still doubt if we could go through it again.
But we have three more cats, all rescues by the children, and they’re not going anywhere, and they will grow old with us and die in our arms if they have to, assuming we didn’t go first.
If you can afford it, keep a pet or pets. Many people, and not necessarily old empty nesters like us, are often lonely and live with stress in an increasingly chaotic and often unkind world. An animal companion can often help alleviate that.
Many humans often need to feel they’re needed and loved. Having a pet for whom you are its entire existence is often a salvation for many who feel alone and unloved.
People often talk about the unconditional love of pets. I hesitate at such easy anthropomorphism – for all we know they just “love” us because we give them food or shelter. But sometimes it’s our own unconditional love of them that saves us from the dark and lonely days and nights.
As I grow older I feel more angry about animal cruelties than with that we inflict on fellow humans. One of our cats was rescued from abuse and still walks with a limp; that sight never failed to bring up some dark thoughts of human cruelties that I would like to inflict on another fellow human.
However, that particular human, in all likelihood, is also a victim of some abuse himself, because this is how such things go. Rescuing or adopting animals will at least help to end this cycle for a few.
Buying cute ones from shops or breeders often perpetuate cruelties in these “puppy mills” where animals are treated as a factory producing saleable babies without regard to their welfare.
So even if Smaw Gurr wasn’t the cutest or cuddliest of cats, the 15 years we had with her were still a blessing for us. That she kept us company as the house emptied, and gave us opportunity to care for another being without thought of profits for ourselves, gave a certain meaning and satisfaction to us.
She is gone now. Some sadness remains, but so does the satisfaction and the blessing upon us and the house.
Money can’t buy that. Good bye Smaw Gurr, and thank you for the memories (and the scars!). - FMT
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.

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