KASHI
Departed but Still Beloved
Kashi and I met on my birthday, July 31, 1991. I was grieving over my cat, Pieces, who had left me 4 months earlier at 16 years of age, and had no real intention of getting another cat. But when I opened eight-month-old Kashi's cage at the Calgary Humane Society, she stood up, rubbed her head against my chin, and began to eat, ravenously, purring all the while. It was as though she'd been waiting for someone to come along and make her feel safe enough to be able to eat. I decided that I would trust her judgement, since she obviously knew something I didn't know yet.
She was right. For two years after she came to live with me, I nicknamed her "Bright One" because she brought incredible light into my life. Then I discovered that the name "Kashi," a Sanskrit word, actually means "Shining." From the very beginning, Kashi was the most shining being in the world.
I had almost named her "Freya," but she insisted on "Kashi." Yet "Freya" would have been a good name too. I discovered later that she was probably a Norwegian Forest Cat, a very friendly, adventurous kitty. It was her incredible plume tail that gave her away; it's one of the prime characteristics of these cats. But she also had the double-layered coat, the almond-shaped eyes, the large paws, and the love of exploring. We went out together for walks almost every day for nine years. She was my guide to Nature, and I learned so much from our walks together: how trees and bushes grow and fade, how birds build their nests, how squirrels behave.
She also opened the door for me to get to know my neighbours instead of being my usual hermit self, because every person on the sidewalk was her friend; she was certain of it, and her certainty was usually justified. She was also convinced that every dog was her friend. If she saw a dog down the street, she immediately trotted toward it, as though to day, "Hi, I'm Kashi, wanna play?" Cats were....well, they were not friends, let's just say. Dogs and people were the cat's meow.
In late January, 2001, Kashi stopped eating and had a long battle with fatty liver disease. When it seemed she had recovered from it, she relapsed, and we realized that the cause of the problem had been a liver tumor, which was inoperable. Kashi my Bright One, the light of my life, departed from me on the morning of February 27, 2001.
She gave me the nine best years of my whole life. She was one of a kind, a Bright, Shining being who burned out too quickly. I miss you, Kashi my Angel.
