Editor’s note: treasured volunteer Tara was “supposed to” share Sweet Pea’s stories for a good, long time.
Sweetness was supposed to linger.
But when things don’t go to plan, love still sings its song. Thanks to Tara for writing this all-too-soon tribute.
“The plan was that I would be writing regular updates on Sweet Pea as she acclimated to both life in the Lobby and treatment for lymphoma. She’d begun to spread her sweetness to everyone around (except maybe poor Meatball, who got told off for getting too close to Sweet Pea’s beloved water fountain).
“That was the plan. But like the spring blooms that bear her name, beautiful Sweet Pea couldn’t stay. I was out running errands on Good Friday when I got the message: my Comfort Buddy hadn’t been eating; the mass in her abdomen had grown beyond control; and she wasn’t breathing well. It was time to let our sweet girl cross the Rainbow Bridge, find the roomiest crate with the biggest water fountain (which she’ll need to share with Felix), and chirp her way into eternity.
“Sweet Pea wasn’t with us long — less than a year. But, in that short time, she left a little paw print on all of our hearts with her gentle nature and sweet face. She surprised us by standing up to Olive, who rules the lobby with an iron paw. She charmed us with her quiet trilling and her big eyes and her soft fur.
“Sweet Pea left us surrounded by love and comfort, laid on a blanket covered in cheerful butterflies that matched her nature. Even as she declined, too tired to wander the Lobby, she’d give you a nice greeting and purr as you pet her. Sweet Pea loved people. She loved head butting your phone as you tried to take her picture, and she relished her leisurely walks around the Lobby, receiving love from everyone she passed.
“There’s an irony in this little black cat’s passing: sweet peas are the birth flower for April babies, and we lost Sweet Pea midway through that month, on Good Friday, no less. But there’s comfort in knowing that she made her way to Tabby’s Place and spent her last months surrounded by such love and care. She had friends, both human and feline, and she gifted us with her affection. She was a graceful soul wrapped in dark fur.
“This is hard for me to write, as I lost a sweet senior kitty of my own to lymphoma last spring. But that loss brought me to Tabby’s Place, where I adopted two sweet little troublemakers and met Sweet Pea and so many other furry friends who all hold pieces of my heart. If we can learn anything from Sweet Pea, it’s to take it in stride when our best-laid plans fall to waste; to look forward to the new friends we’ll make; and to bravely embrace what is to come.
“Sweet Pea always did.”