Windy – memories I want to keep <3

On October 4th, my sweet kitty Windy passed away from advanced stage kidney disease. She was 10, but I’d only had her for five (and a half) years; she saw me through that transition from girl to woman, and through the years when I’ve been the sickest I’ve ever been. She was my first cat, and my first adult pet, and the absolute best one I could have asked for. I love her so much.

Today I’m sharing a huge, probably pretty unorganized, brain-dump blog post of all the little things I don’t want to forget about her. You don’t have to read the whole thing–my feelings won’t be hurt if you skim, or if you skip it entirely. I just want to have it someplace to look back on for myself, and typing was faster and easier than writing it all out in my journal. So… here is a summary of Windy’s life with me.

(On a similar note, I also took every video of Windy on my phone and compiled them into one big YouTube video so I can watch it anytime I want. It ended up being almost 40 minutes long, so you totally don’t have to watch it–but it’s there if you would like to.) (My main takeaway after watching all those videos in a row is I don’t know how on earth that poor cat put up with me for five whole years. I swear I will be nice to my next cat.) (For a while, anyway.) (Pictured below is Windy being So Done with me.)

When I moved out in June 2019, I would’ve preferred to have a dog. I technically grew up with a cat, but she spent her entire life under my parents’ bed, and I have very few memories of her. So, while I love all animals, I thought I was more of a dog person. But I knew I didn’t have the energy and physical ability to care for a dog. So, somewhat reluctantly, I decided to adopt a cat instead. I scrolled through available cats from my local Humane Society, and Windy’s huge, beautiful green eyes grabbed me right away.

I never got a clear answer about where Windy had come from, or her life before me. She hadn’t been at the Humane Society for very long–she was still in the “quarantine” crate, not yet in a big room with other cats. Someone told me she was found on the side of the road. Someone else told me a family surrendered her. (I highly doubt she could have survived in the wild for long. No offense. See below for proof, as we clearly each expected the other one to kill that bug.)

She also apparently had her brother with her, but he was sick, and was taken to the vet and never came back? It was all a little sketchy. All I knew for sure was that her online page said she loved to be brushed, so I bought a brush before I even adopted her. And boy, were they ever right about that. (did I rly think I could make it through writing this blog post without crying)

My mom and my friend Hannah and I went to the Humane Society, and I brought Windy home to the apartment I’d just moved into a couple of weeks before. (I remember fudging the paperwork because you had to be 21 to adopt, and I wasn’t 21 yet.) Windy was originally named Windsong (which I think is from the Warrior Cats books–a series I loved when I was a kid!). I couldn’t decide if I loved that name or hated it, so I just shortened it–and then proceeded to call her “the cat” for pretty much her entire life. Lol. (All of these photos are from her first day home.)

I waxed poetic on Instagram about “love at first sight,” but honestly? That wasn’t really what happened. Especially not after her first night home–as you can see from my Instagram story the next morning. (She looks very pleased with herself.) What I didn’t mention was the flying leap she took from the top of my five-foot bookcase onto my head at 2 AM.

“At first I didn’t love Windy. I was just like, a cat, that’s nice. But now I’ve gotten to know her better. The first night she was very active and kept me up all night. Now, she sleeps (generally in bed with me) until 4 AM and then has an active playtime (I have to put up her noisy toys and string my fairy lights out of reach) before falling back asleep on the floor.” – My journal, a week after I brought Windy home

The following week I wrote: “Cried because the darn cat wouldn’t go in her carrier, so no vet appointment.” But Windy settled in pretty quickly as queen of her new domain (see below) and discovered all of her new favorite things that she would spend the next five-plus years doing: looking out the double window, snuggling with me/on one of the fleece blankets, hanging out with me while I worked, etc.

Windy loved being brushed; pens and pencils; peoples’ shoes; fleece blankets (and also sleeping on my sweatshirts that I leave lying around); chicken; looking out the window (and, particularly, open windows); and, of course, snuggling. She didn’t always play with toys a lot; definitely more so in her younger years. More often, she would kind of just crouch next to them like they were there for emotional support, lol. But even if she acted like she didn’t want to play, she usually couldn’t resist a string or ribbon dragging across the floor. I bought all kinds of cute toys throughout the years (you can see her looking with disdain at some of them in the photos below), but really, it was all about strings–strings from my old sweatpants, ribbons from a gift I’d just opened, or the ribbon bookmark in my daily gratitude journal that has teeth marks in it that I will treasure forever.

She disliked the vacuum (luckily for her, I don’t vacuum often at all); garbage bags and Walmart bags (anytime she sees me open the cabinet where I keep kitchen garbage bags, she suddenly remembers that she actually has somewhere else to be, and very quickly), being picked up (she would sort of tolerate it for a minute?); chip clips and hair clips (yes, I admit, I did scare/chase her with these because I thought it was funny); selfies; and the blinds being shut. She would get miffed with me if I didn’t get up and open the blinds quickly enough so she could take her place watching over the neighborhood.

Places Windy could usually be found sitting: the top of the couch; the pillow by me on the couch; the windowsill, the bench by the double window, or the blanket on top of the short bookcase by the double window; on a kitchen chair; anywhere on the carpet (especially in rectangles of late-afternoon summer sunshine).

When it came to sleeping with me in bed, she went through phases there, too. Sometimes she would sleep with me all or part of the night. Sometimes she wouldn’t. But every night, I read in bed for a while before I turn out the lights–and she would always get in my “leg triangle” and snuggle up. When I finished getting ready for bed–a process during which she’d crouch on the carpet and watch me–I would always say, “Come on, let’s go to bed!” and she would dart into the bedroom ahead of me (and if she didn’t, I’d then say, “Are you coming?”). I don’t really have any photos of this because I leave my phone in the kitchen at night. But it was always my absolute favorite time of day. (Windy was a very well-read cat–but she would sometimes get offended and leave if I started squealing too loudly about a plot twist.)

Windy was very friendly and social. In many ways, she had a lot of dog-like qualities! When I came home, she would usually come to say hello to me at the door. And usually, I didn’t even have to speak to her for her to come to me–all I had to do was make eye contact from across the room, and she’d come over to me, running with that little trot.

She loved having company, too (unless that company involved toddlers or young children–then she definitely would eventually hit a point where she would retreat to the “kitty cave” or under the bed). She would hang out and listen to the gossip on girls’ nights, and jump in your lap whether you wanted her or not. She basically became best friends with all of my friends.

I mentioned that her big green eyes were the first thing I noticed about her. But Windy was beautiful all around! She was a big, fluffy girl, with the most perfect little heart-shaped nose that everyone always commented on. I also loved her curly, soft belly fur; her adorable white paws (that she didn’t like me to touch); and the inky black fur on the backs of her back legs (which she also didn’t like me to touch). One time, I showed a cat show judge a photo of Windy and asked what breed(s) the judge thought she might be. The judge said probably an LAPerm, and when I looked up the breed, that tracked not only physically but also in personality: LAPerms are friendly and affectionate cats that want to be close their owners. Windy would often reach out and touch my ankle with her paw when I walked by her, and it turns out that could be an LAPerm thing, too.

Windy was silent for most of her life: She didn’t meow (except very rarely) until she got sick. At that point, she did become more vocal and talkative for the last few months of her life. And, fittingly with how sweet she was, she also didn’t hiss or growl. She hissed at me exactly one time in her life (and it was just after she’d been in the hospital for a few days this September, so she was a little wound up). But when we were playing or when I was intentionally provoking her, she would certainly swat at me with her paws or bite me. I could tell she was about to lose patience when her tail started twitching.

If you watched any section of the YouTube video (up until the point where she got sick and I finally took mercy on her), you’ll know this poor cat had the patience of a saint. She loved me even though I constantly did dumb things like scare her just so I could laugh at her (but seriously… this is HER MEME) or torture her to try to make a TikTok.

Every few months, I would decide Windy needed more stimulation, and I’d get on this kick to provide stimulation and enrichment in her life–feline brain teasers, puzzle toys, obstacle courses, stuff like that. My mom used to say that whenever that happened, Windy was probably always like, “Oh great, I wish she wouldn’t.”

Windy was not allowed on the kitchen counters–but I know she got up there anyway. She just waited until I was in bed for the night, or out of the house. I know she would drink out of the sink and sit on the fabric placemats. Before bed, I’d have to “cat-proof the house” and put all pens, pencils, and other small, movable objects somewhere she couldn’t reach them (like in a drawer) or they’d end up under the couch.

When Windy would climb to the top of her cat tree, she’d jump and latch on with her claws halfway up. She would hang there for a minute like a mountain climber and then gather her strength and haul herself over the top. She used to also sometimes do stupid or silly things like standing up on her hind legs on the windowsill when the blinds were raised (to stretch? To reach for the blinds? Who knows), and then her claws on her front legs would get caught and she would be stuck kind of dangling from the blinds. Years ago, she used to also get in trouble for lying on her back and scratching under the couch. And my bathroom door has never latched properly–so when I’m in there with the door shut, Windy just barges right in. (She has done this to guests before, too. Sorry, y’all.) Of course, she would also do the typical cat thing and interrupt Zoom meetings by walking across my desk or jumping into her cat tree behind my head.

If I left a tote bag or my fabric laptop case on the floor for longer than a day, that was it–Windy had claimed it for her loafing spot for the forseeable future. She also liked to hop in the empty laundry basket when I was done putting away clothes. When she wanted to be fed (or, honestly, anytime I walked toward the kitchen) she would sit in front of the pantry, where I kept her food, and stare at me–very subtle. Her “gopher stance” also cracked me up–if I was holding something that she thought was food and she wanted it, she would stand on her hind legs and peer up at it.

Most of the time when I sat down at the keyboard and started practicing voice, Windy would come from wherever she’d been napping to join me. She would jump into my lap and hang out, or sit on the rug close to my chair. But the higher my vocal warm-ups got, the further her “airplane ears” would go back!

My favorite thing ever was when Windy curled in a ball with her head in her tail and her paw over her eyes. How precious?! And after she would meet me at the door when I came home, if I sat down on the couch she would immediately start making biscuits on my stomach (love is pain), or if I sat on the floor she would get in my lap. I also love nothing more than when she would lean forward and delicately sniff my face as I was petting her.

I discovered just now, looking for photos to add to this post, that I only have one picture from my 21st birthday. On that day, I had a fever of 104 degrees and spent the day alone in bed, too weak to lift my head. My body was incredibly sick and failing overall, and it was the first day my dietitian brought up the idea of tube feeds. The single photo I have from that day is of me lying in bed with Windy sitting on top of me.

Windy got sick herself this summer (2024), when she was 10. I’d noticed that she had lost a little weight, smelled strange, had had changes in her eating habits and bowel habits. I planned to bring these things up at her yearly check-up in August. But I didn’t realize how serious things were until my mom pet-sat when I was out of town for a week in late July. My mom thought Windy was frighteningly skinny and sick, and said she really wasn’t eating at all.

A couple of days after I got back in town, my mom took Windy to the emergency vet for me and phoned me in. I was too sick to do it myself–I was out of my feeding tube formula, and also out of one of my meds, which gave me withdrawals. “I am so incredibly exhausted from quite literally just trying to keep the two of us alive,” I texted a friend about my struggle to get any kind of calories or hydration into both Windy and myself.

Windy ended up being diagnosed with chronic kidney disease–something that, in cats, often starts with gradual symptoms and then they suddenly get a lot sicker. With Windy, the next two months were extremely rough for us both. The majority of my physical and emotional energy went into caring for her. She had dropped from 12 lbs to 6 lbs and remained that small until she passed away. In addition to the kidney disease itself, she had complications with her liver, her colon, and severe anemia. Windy had multiple overnight hospitalizations and so many outpatient appointments for subcutaneous fluids, as well as diet changes and medications at home. Symptomatically and with her labwork, she showed lots of ups and downs, but the vet predicted she had six months left and that was what I held onto.

Until late September, when she didn’t eat for a week even though she was on an appetite stimulant and a nausea med. After that hospitalization and her bloodwork numbers, the vet told me Windy had days to weeks left, and I brought her home on comfort/palliative care. For a few days, Windy was extremely clingy, glued to my lap. Then she retreated to hide in the closet. People had been telling me for two months “You’ll know when it’s time,” and I didn’t get what they meant–until I did. Which happened on a Wednesday night, about a week after bringing her home from the hospital.

The next day I made an appointment to take her in and discuss with the vet, and we scheduled euthanasia for Friday. I stayed in the room for the whole process. Her last night (Thursday) was so peaceful and nice. She wanted to go outside (I don’t usually let her outside, at least not often and not for long), so we went on the balcony. She dozed in the sun for three hours while I snipped things out of magazines for collages, and there was a beautiful sunset that lasted a long time and kept changing (Friday’s sunset was beautiful, too). So it was pretty perfect.

This sweet baby. I talked to her all day every day, and we had so many little routines and understandings just between the two of us. It made living alone with chronic illness feel so much less lonely. I spend so much time at home, and so much time in bed, and she would always be right there snuggled up to me–content to just chill and hang out next to me with whatever I’m doing, or to walk all around me butting her head into me. I’ve spent more time with Windy in the last five-plus years than I have with any one human. Goodness, I’ve definitely spent more time with her than I have with humans in general.

Windy was such a gift from God. I think the whole “soul cat” or “soul pet” thing is dumb, but if I didn’t… it would apply. I wish I had thrown her a 10th birthday party this year like I considered doing. She’s the first pet in my lifetime that has ever been mine–not a family pet, but one whom I chose and I took care of.

Not to get too deep, but I think something about Windy’s death was really symbolic of a period of time in my life. There’s a quote from Jean Cocteau that says “I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.” And this apartment has always been Windy’s and mine. When I brought her home, I still had cardboard moving boxes to unpack. I didn’t have pictures on the walls. I was young enough and healthy enough, at that point (or thought I was, anyway), to still be starry-eyed and excited about everything that I thought was going to happen next. But life doesn’t always go according to plan. And now Windy is gone and I’m left alone and just weary, with certain elements of who I was at that time in my life that I can never get back. It was always Windy and me in our apartment against the world. And now it’s not.

There will never be another cat like her, and of course, I’ll never go through this exact coming-of-age period of life again. I will always miss Windy. I love her so incredibly much. I will always be glad it was her.

“My sweet kitty Windy went to sleep last week on an achingly golden October day. She slipped away in my lap wrapped in the same purple fleece blanket she’d been making biscuits on since the day she came home. Windy was diagnosed with advanced stage kidney disease at the beginning of August, and while I worked hard with my vet to treat her and I’m thankful for every extra day we got, her organs were failing and eventually it was kindest to let her go.

Windy was 10 years old and I adopted her about five and a half years ago (June 2019), when I moved out. Her first night home, when neither of us slept and she took a 2 AM flying leap from the top of my five-foot bookcase onto the top of my head, I didn’t know how deeply and truly she would become the best thing that had ever been mine.

I’ve grown up from a girl into a woman with Windy. Really, I’ve never lived alone, because I’ve always had her. She was social, friendly, content to hang out with me in whatever I was doing — working from home, gossiping during girls’ nights, practicing voice. I’ve been my sickest these last five-plus years and she has been here ready to snuggle me through every surgery recovery, every nap, and every hard day.

Windy was truly the best, sweetest, most perfect cat I could ever have asked for. It seems like I don’t remember a life before her, but also, that five years was a ridiculously short amount of time. She took care of me and I hope at the end that I took the best possible care of her. I love her so much. I will miss her snuggles for the rest of my life.“

“Your big beautiful green eyes were the first thing that captured me in your shelter intake photo before we even met. And they were the last thing I saw on our final day together five and a half years later, their color dulled from the kidney failure that had ravaged your little body, as you crossed over into whatever comes next.

People talk about dogs being loyal, but they’ve never met you — never seen how you would come running to greet me when I walked in the door, or the hours every day that you spent stuck to my side as we snuggled together. You were the only one who was with me 24/7 during those horribly lonely years while my body declined and went so scarily downhill. But now I get to keep living, and you don’t. I wish we could go back to when you were fluffy and sassy and I thought we had all the time in the world, or at least a solid five more years.

Without your heart-shaped nose peeking around the corner, I feel completely adrift. I would give anything to hear your paws thump onto the floor from counter height and yell ‘I heard that!’ again, or for you to barge into the bathroom on me one more time. I don’t know how I can write another book at my bench without you perching on the sill looking out the double window you loved so much, or even read one in bed without you curled into a ball dozing in your spot between my knees. I’m still habitually picking up my pens and pencils each night so they don’t end up lost under the couch.

And I know I’ll find other cats to love, or they will find me — that they’re on their way to me right now, coming as fast as they can, waiting for me to bring them home. But none of them will ever be you.”