The View From Here

Krazy Kat's Transformation

Krazy Kat went beyond her Katness into the Great Next Thing a few months ago. She had been becoming lighter and lighter, as though she were actually a sparrow zipped into a Krazy Kat suit. Her back end ceased being able to synchronise with her front end. Towards the end of her time, she stopped eating, drinking, peeing and pooping. She slept in a Krazy Kat fetal kitten ball of delicate fluff in the big chair. I fretted over the process of her demise. She did not appear to be in distress, merely at the end of her journey of 19 years as the driver of her Krazy Kat Kar. I wished she would just sleep away to the next Krazy Dream, but she did not. I attempted to eye dropper some liquid into her, she was not amused. I spent time sneaking up on her to see if her little sparrow Kat ribs were moving oh so slightly, or not at all. I wrapped her up in a blanky and held her like my Krazy fur baby, hoping she would fly away. Finally, I made a call and requested an appointment for assistance. I carried her out into the blazing sunshine of a Fall afternoon. I walked her around and put her nose up to the leaves of the rhododendron she would sleep under and let her sniff the dirt where she had her little summertime sunny Katnaps. I put her in the car and drove her away. I parked my car and carried her into the office. Only Krazy Kat's face and blinking, almost gone eyes were peering out from the blanket. The girl behind the counter looked mildly confused when we walked in, but smiled sweetly at Krazy Kat and me and asked if we had an appointment. I responded, "Yes, at 3:40". She flipped through her cards and said she was not finding us. I looked around noticing the charts of human spines and other non-pet like advertising. I realized I had carried Krazy Kat into a chiropractor's office. The girl looked at me with kind bewilderment as I made my apologies and offered no explanation regarding this final adventure with my Krazy Kat. Surely she thought I was an eccentric, aging "Kat Lady" stopping in for an adjustment, carrying a half-dead Kat (blinking out from a baby blanket) like a tragic substitute for a long lost and forever mourned infant of long ago. I am sure she was relieved as she pointed us to the vet's office across the street. As I returned to my car, the absurdity of the moment brought me some needed perspective. I had imagined this moment would be a solemn one, including dramatic lighting and melancholy music and close-ups of me bravely holding back tears. Instead of an Oscar worthy moment, it had become a Lucille Ball skit featuring me attempting to assist Krazy Kat while she teetered on the precipice of the Great Whatever.
Krazy Kat remained enigmatic and unfazed, her green, green eyes blinking in the afternoon sun. We made our way across the street to the appropriate location where Krazy Kat could spring into her next adventure; away from the Here and Now, and our time together; an aging eccentric human woman and her roommate and fuzzy companion, Krazy Kat. I will miss her.