Farewell To Luna, Our Very Own Beautiful Moon

Six days ago, and two days before the full moon, I wrote a silly poem which appears below this post.  The first stanza of the poem makes reference to one of our cats - really, one of Susan's cats - who has been the only cat with the privilege of sleeping in our bed most every night.  At the time I wrote the poem, Luna was having trouble eating or even drinking water, and we were trying different things to keep her hydrated.  On the night of the full moon, she seemed better, and Susan and I were cautiously optimistic.  Unfortunately, it did not last, and when  Susan awoke yesterday morning, poor Luna was much, much worse, no longer able to use her hind legs and meowing in a very different way.  She called our veterinarian who makes house calls and she came that afternoon, giving us time to hold Luna and tell her everything we needed to tell her, and just be with her.  Carol came and sedated her; once sedation took affect, she administered the medication which sent her off.

Luna was 15-years-old and she had a very good life.  She and her litter mates were born  in the ruins of the old Cabbagetown Mill, several years before the famous fire.  Luna's mother belonged to Susan's neighbor and, the night she was ready to birth her kittens, she managed to escape from the house.  After a week or so, the mother cat returned to her home with (at least some of) her kittens, hiding them in the crawl space beneath the house.  Susan's neighbor desperately attempted to trap the now feral kittens, but it was not an easy task.  Finally, after five long weeks, the two remaining kittens - one sleek, handsome, solid black male and one tiny, gorgeous, calico female - were captured.  Given they had never been exposed to humans for the entire five weeks of their lives, these two feral kittens wanted nothing to do with us now and had no problem letting everyone know it.  The neighbor offered the kittens to Susan, and she jumped at the chance to care for them and bring them into the human world.  Susan named the sable-coated kitten Annwn, an old Welsh word for the Underworld.  She pondered over the female's name for a bit.  She knew her name's meaning should incorporate "light" and "glowing," and contemplated Guinevere, Welsh for white and smooth.  But then, the beautiful calico made it easier for Susan and simply told her what her name was: Luna, the Latin version of Selene, original Greek goddess of the moon: white, effervescent, exceptional.  Once Susan named the kittens, she tended to raising them.  She was patient, no matter how many scratches and hisses she received - and how little she saw of her two new charges during the first six months - but she never gave up and slowly coaxed them to come out from hiding, and then slowly to become accustomed to other humans, as well.  When Susan came to live with me ten years ago, Luna and Annwn came along; Annwn, however, did not fare well in the suburbs.  He ran off to explore and never came back, except in Spirit to let us know he was gone but at peace.

Luna, on the other hand, stayed with us through thick and thin. She put up with two pit bulls, three dachshunds, and four other cats.  She learned the boundaries of our new land on this mountain very quickly when, right after we first moved in, she went on a walk-about and ended up in a compromising position on a branch high in a tree on our neighbor's land after her dogs chased Luna up said tree, and we had to pay a guy $100 to climb the tree, grab her and stuff her in a pillow case, and return her to safety!  She never left our property without someone with her again.  She didn't need to, for our land, our woods, our creek, and all the living creatures sharing the space with us was enough to keep this sweet kitty happy, as long as she was with Susan.  And although she did like sleeping on my head, or my stomach or side or wherever she could fit, Luna was, from beginning to middle to end, Susan's cat.

Susan gave her the best life, and she gave her a very peaceful death.  Her energy is still with us in the house, and Susan is making her cedar box in which we will place her in her bed, along with a few things she loved, and a few things which have meaning for us spiritually.  The area Susan has chosen to place this cedar box, made with such loving hands, is beneath a red maple and next to a chestnut oak, so she will be shaded by Beauty, and guarded by Strength.  She will always be at home, and yet she is free now:

Free from pain, free from all sufferings of the body, free from fear

She can run through the woods with the same speed and grace she had as a young cat 

She can be one with the Earth and Wind, one with Water and Fire

She can play for as long as she wants to play 

She can be here with us as long as she wants to be here...

And when she is ready, her beautiful Spirit can catch a Moonbeam

Spiral up, up, up, until she reaches the Summerland...where someday, 

Susan will find her beautiful moon-kitty, her Luna, again

We Love You

Sweet Luna

Fare Thee Well