Farewell to Aslan

This is a post that I have put off writing.  It's been two weeks, yet I still can hardly believe that Aslan is no longer with me.

Aslan was a purebred Ragdoll cat.  He was the only purebred cat I ever had, and that was only because George had done a lot of research about finding the "perfect" cat to replace my beloved JB, who died on my 50th birthday.  Ragdolls are known to be sweet and docile, and for being great with children.  While Aslan actually turned out to be terrified of children, he really was as sweet as he was beautiful, and had never caused me a moment's problem [other than scratching the sofas, which I truly did not appreciate].

Aslan was pure white when I first got him as a kitten, a little "snowball" who loved to jump up on the bed, and give me kisses in the middle of the night.  Shortly after getting him (September), I knew that Aslan was just aching to have a "little brother," as he would follow me around meowing with a very serious-sounding cry.  I promptly followed his urging, and picked out Gryffyn and brought him home in early November.  The two were best friends from the moment they met, Aslan definitely taking the "big brother" role.  They were born exactly seven months apart, and they died seven months apart, with Gryffyn at age 7, and Aslan, age 8.  They were both much too young to die, and I had hoped for several more years with them.

Aslan loved to be outdoors, and his favorite time of life was when he got to play in our garden in Orem.  We had a routine/ritual where after we went running every morning, we would sit outside (even in the snow), and let "the boys" roam around the garden as we read our scriptures.  As we would arrive back home from our run, we could hear them crying in eagerness for us to open the door and let them do their daily exploring.  They would hide amongst the flowers in spring and summer, and pounce out on unsuspecting birds.  Although this was their favorite activity, neither of them was ever successful in catching their prey, but they had a very good time in the process.  Brett would comb Aslan's long fur, and our neighbor would poke his head out the door and ask if Brett was "shearing the lambs."

Aslan (and Gryffyn) had spent the last several years indoors, as our country estate had too much wildlife on the prowl for a tasty snack, and then I had lived in a room at the LeFevre's for the last four months.  I had really been looking forward to allowing Aslan to explore our new, fenced-in back yard, knowing how many happy hours he would enjoy there.  Besides that, Aslan and Izzy had formed their own friendship, and I felt that they would be able to keep each other company and ease the anxiety over my leaving each day for work.  If only . . .

When I first brought Aslan to our new home, I put him in the laundry room, so that he would be safe while the movers were bringing the furniture in.  When I went to put him in, I thought the room smelled "chemically," but dismissed that thought as coming from my over-sensitive sense of smell.  Not knowing a better option, I opened the window and closed the door.  Aslan cried to get out, just as he had cried to get out of the room at the LeFevre's, but I did not realize how serious it was until I opened the door, and saw that all four of Aslan's feet were running blood, and that he could hardly breathe.  Without wanting to go into all of the details, suffice it to say that Aslan had been burned by something on the floor (perhaps a phosphate cleaner to remove glue), and that his lungs had been burned also.  He suffered greatly during the next 48 hours, as I took him to and from vet appointments, and we tried baths and medicines.  It was truly horrible, especially for a little guy who had never been sick a day in his life.  After $1000 spent in the effort, Aslan and I lost the fight for his life.  It was a terrible blow for beginning the new chapter of life that I had anticipated sharing with Aslan and Izzy. [The building supervisor is horrified by what happened, and no one can find any answers about what might have been used on the floor, etc.  I do not wish to make things even harder by becoming acrimonious or litigious.]

Aslan was a constant source of love and comfort to me, from his first days filling the space left by dear JB, to his last days, purring and snuggling, as I spent many sleepless nights over the last two years.  He truly asked for nothing but companionship, and he had far too little of that since we left Orem.  I am so grateful for the beauty and grace that Aslan offered me on a daily basis.  I will miss him terribly.