The House is Empty Without Zen

When I moved to this beautiful house share, one of the unexpected benefits was a serene, older black and white cat named Zen. We bonded quickly and I soon asked if I could take over as the designated feeder. My housemate also has a German Shepherd named Tasha who keeps her busy.

Zen had a thyroid tumor so I ground up a pill twice a day and stirred it into her food. She was a finicky eater, so I sometimes drizzled tuna juice over the prescription cat food we bought at the vet's for her. I discovered that she liked to have me stand over her to watch her eat. If I walked away, she walked away from the bowl. I wanted her to eat ... so I started a daily meditation by the food dish. Sometimes I sat at the breakfast table with my morning paper when I thought she was finished, but if she still wanted food, she came over and tapped me on the arm with her paw. Persistently. This was the only time she tapped so I knew it was about food. She often was waiting at my door in the morning if I didn't get up early enough to feed her.

The other challenge with feeding Zen was that Tasha very much liked her food. Well, she likes any food. But she would quickly gulp the cat food down if Zen walked away for a minute. I resorted to building a barricade out of chairs when Zen was at her eating post. She started eating less and less and her stuffy nose became chronic and seemed to kill her appetite, so we took her to the vet to see if something could be done for her. The vet discovered another tumor, and this one seemed to be growing. Feeding became even more of a meditation. Then one day, she stopped eating altogether and we knew the end was coming.

By now she was spending most of her time in a basket with a heating pad and that seemed to bring her some comfort. Her owner and I agreed that she was in pain and wasn't getting better and it was time to put her to sleep. The vet had already advised this. We took her on a Saturday afternoon, wrapped in her favorite blanket. She was quiet and seemed to almost know something was happening. We had all spent quiet time saying goodbye to her but it was wrenching as we sat holding her in the waiting room.

When we came home, the house felt very empty. Her quiet spirit was gone, but I kept looking for her under the table, in her favorite chair and in the basket before I remembered. I still miss her and I'm grateful that my housemate was willing to share this sweet creature with me for our short time together.