Lily (left) and Taz (right) came into our lives last Christmas when my parents brought them home from an impromptu trip to a shelter in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. Their arrival was especially important to our family after the devastating loss of our 13 year old dog Rolie just months earlier.
When I first met them they were small enough to cup them both in my hands. They weren’t biological siblings, but they were as much brother and sister as any other. My mom had never even considered adopting a female cat since we have always had male pets, but my brother had already decided on Taz and there was no way they were leaving the shelter without her. A few weeks after her adoption, my dad carried her into the living room and proudly exclaimed to my mom “Kathleen, we did it. We finally got our little girl.”
I’ve never seen this kind of relationship between two animals before. They were friends. They were best friends. They did everything together. They wouldn’t sleep without the other by their side. They wouldn’t eat without fighting over the same dish. They were soul mates, in every sense of the word.
Seven months passed and they grew from handfuls of fluff to long and slender cats. As summer came they began to spend more and more time outside in the sun, chasing dragonflies and birds in the great big tree in our front yard. Every day was something new and exciting as they made their way to the top branches, or onto the roof, or into a robin’s nest. Taz was a lot heavier than Lily, so he wasn’t quite as nimble or graceful in the tree as she was, but she waited for him, as she always did.
On July 26th, the cats never came home. My parents were up late calling their names but they never came. The next morning, Taz was at the door, ready to be let in. Lily was nowhere to be found. That afternoon my mom began to post messages on facebook asking if anyone had seen Lily, but all the leads were false and no one seemed to know anything. Taz became more and more depressed. I’ve never seen an animal look sad until I saw him alone for the first time. My parents noticed that he would go outside every morning and not come home until the next morning. He’d come inside, eat, lay on the couch, and then go back outside. Nobody followed him. They weren’t interested in what he was doing, as it was probably just normal cat stuff. The search continued for Lily but to no avail. She had vanished without a trace.
This morning was the same routine. Taz sulked inside, ate, and then asked to be let out. My dad watched as he sauntered across the lawn and up the neighbor’s driveway. For the first time since Lily’s disappearance, he took an interest in Taz. My dad followed him up the driveway and around the house into their backyard. He watched Taz crawl under the neighbor’s camper and into the shadows. When he bent down to look underneath he finally understood where Taz had been going each day. Cramped under the camper, nuzzled next to the tire, was Lily, and lying next to her body was Taz; her faithful friend, her brother, her soul mate.
These two little kitties have taught me so much, and it breaks my heart to see them torn apart by death, but I know that in some way, Lily is still with Taz, and she’ll always be.
Rest in peace little girl,
We love you so, so much.
A flower for you, my lady.
Sloths are what happens when coconuts come alive
That comment makes sense
"Voldemort Umbridge Potter, you were named after the two worst people I know because frankly you annoy the shit out of me"
"One of the first houses we lived in was like out of a fairy story. We had a stream that ran through our garden, and we played with the ducks - we locked them in my mum’s office and they pooed everywhere. It was crazy, picking blackberries and mushrooms, rabbits running through your legs." — Emilia Clarke for Flare Magazine (2014)
It seriously took me like thirty seconds