A tribute to my tabby - Bubka (deceased)

Bubka adopted my husband’s family in the year 1990. She just leaped into the house through the window and refused to leave. My husband, his sisters, and his dad were overjoyed at having a pet in the house, but his mother was not so enthralled by the gray and white tabby. Anyway, she didn’t leave them much choice because she delivered three bald pink kittens a couple of weeks later.

In 1996, I met Keith and we became good friends. A couple of years later, we were dating. When Keith invited me home for the first time, I was thrilled. We went to his apartment and he opened the door and called out, “Bubka! Look who’s here to meet you.” My first memory of Bubka was of her trotting out of the bedroom and inspecting me. I sat down on the sofa and she leaped onto my lap. With a squeal, I leaped off. Disappointed, she settled down on Keith’s lap. As I sat aside alone and forgotten, and listened to him speaking aloud to her, I cringed and wondered if I had fallen in love with a sane man. When he invited me to speak to her, I whispered her name in embarrassment. Over the next six months, I overcame my inhibitions and when he proposed marriage, it was on the condition that I love and care for Bubka as much as him – I readily agreed.

By the time we were married in May 2000 (six months after I met Bubka for the first time), Bubka and I were inseparable and I carried her about as I’d carry a newborn. At night, Keith and I fought over whose side of the bed Bubka would share. When I came back from work in the evenings, Bubka would talk to me and demand various treats. She had different meows for water, cat food, fish, going out, etc. In a few weeks, I learned to distinguish between them. When she went through labor in an old television carton, I sat beside the carton patiently cooing encouragements to her. I almost felt like a grandma when I saw her first litter of newborn kittens.

Two years after our marriage, during the Christmas of 2002, my husband and I noticed small puddles of pus lying about the house. It didn’t take long to figure out the source – Bubka. A trip to the vet revealed that Bubka was suffering from an infection of the uterus. He suggested a surgery, but warned us that due to the severity of the condition and Bubka’s age (12+ years), she had only a 50 percent chance of survival. We decided to take it. The surgery to remove her uterus was a success. For a couple of weeks after the surgery, Bubka made good progress and we celebrated – ill-timed as it turned out. Two weeks later, she set into a steady decline. She refused food and water for days on end, and we took her to the vet for daily injections of glucose. The doctor, having grown fond of her, refused any payment.

In another week, she was too weak to even move her paw. The doctor warned me that the end was near – he believed Bubka had gone into depression following the removal of the uterus (a hormone problem? Maybe, we will never know for sure.) It became an ordeal going to work, thinking of her lying in her basket covered with a quilt and only a hot water bottle for company. On Friday, February 08, 2003, I came back from work and took her to the vet for her daily glucose injection. He examined and injected her as usual. He looked at me and told me she wouldn’t make it through the night. I rushed home and called Keith to tell him what the doctor had said. He refused to come home, he just didn’t want to see her dying.

I sat on the bed, cradling Bubka in my lap. At about 9:00pm, I laid her on the bed and went for a drink of water. When I came back, I could see the life flowing out of her. I couldn’t control the tears any longer. As I lay sobbing on the bed, Bubka used the last of her life strength to lay her paw on my hand, as if she understood. As I took strength from her gesture and wiped my tears, she passed away to the Rainbow Bridge.

It’s been four years since Bubka decided to move on. It was painful for a long while, but the birth of a daughter, a year after Bubka’s passing, helped us move on. Keith and I still talk about her. We like to think she’s watching over us, and especially over her little sister. To our daughter Aaliyah, Bubka is the synonym for cat. Once in a while, when I find a familiar black and white striped cat’s hair on a black dress, I look around. I know she’s there somewhere – waiting till the day we join her in Rainbow Bridge.