Michael Hillman

On New Year’s Eve, we lost Gracie after a year-long battle with cancer. One moment she was what could best be described as a fat tick, the next, she was literally skin and bones. Such is the devastating effects that cancer brings.

In the diary that my wife, Audrey, keeps on all the important events in our lives, she has the following entry for Gracie’s arrival:

“September 20, 2011 (Dad’s Birthday) – ‘Grace’ appeared in our tack room this morning – a very sweet black female, young, cat. I would guess a spring kitten. Very hungry, very sweet, very chatty and craving a human’s touch and kindness. I have no doubt she will grace our lives for years to come.”

Gracie, as the note above implies, got her name because my wife felt she was a gift from her deceased father as she arrived on the anniversary of his passing and would would ‘grace’ us for a long time.

As the position for ‘barn cat’ was currently vacant, she was welcomed into the fold. Some may think the job as a barn cat is not that great – but in our household, the barn cat ‘gig’ is about as good as it gets. You get a heated tack room, with a heated bed and all the food you want. The only downside is you get locked in at night, so feline nighttime activities are rather limited.

But as good as barn cat gig was, Gracie was having nothing do with it. Every chance she got, she would climb the tree next to the kitchen window, and leap the short two feet to the window screen, latch herself onto the screen and hang there until one of us went outside to remove her – all the while, she protested that the other cats got to be inside – why not her?

I’m not sure who finally suggested it, but with the screen becoming filled with holes from claws, we finally relented and allowed Gracie into the house – just in time for winter.

Gracie gleefully announced her new position as an indoor cat. She then claimed ownership of the couch in front of the wood-burning stove in my study where she could make up for lost time getting toasty warm. As that first winter descended upon us, Grace could always be found basking in the warmth of the fire. I was always amazed at how warm she was, but it never seemed to bother her. On more then one occasion I would come in from the outside and use Gracie to warm my hands, she never objected.

Every touch always elicited a conversation with Gracie. A conversation that only got more intricate if we opted to reply – which, of course, we rarely failed to do. But it was not only a touch, but the simple mention of her name that would cause Grace to launch into a very vocal conversation.

But Gracie saved her most vocal vocalizations for feeding time. A creature of habit, Gracie would position herself on the desk in the kitchen where she could get the best view of the opening of the cat food cans. As the food was divided up amongst the bowls for all the cats, one could swear that Gracie was critiquing how long it was taking to get her food. When her bowl was finally placed in front of her, her ‘chatter’ always ended with a high pitch squeak – as it to say ‘finally.’

For many years, Gracie slept between my wife and I every night. I don’t recall when that changed or what brought the change on, but for many years I went to sleep to the sound of her purring. God help it if you touched her during the night however – she was very vocal in expressing her dislike of being disturbed.

As much as Gracie liked being an indoor cat during that first winter, when spring arrived, she made it very clear that she wanted ‘out’ during the day. Having already been an outdoor cat, we willingly obliged – especially as Grace was not a wanderer.

Having decided that Mother Nature was better gardener then herself, Audrey had long ago turned her formal garden into a native pollinator ‘jungle,’ which provided great hunting for Gracie. From sun up to sun down, Grace hunted, slept, and played in the old garden. In doing so, she clearly made it her territory.

That said, Grace would never miss an opportunity to walk through the back door. Out of nowhere she would appear as you walked to the back door, beating you to the door so she could enter first. Almost immediately however, upon discovering that she was now inside on a nice summer day, would she announce her desire to be let out.

The reverse was also true. She would race to the back door as one left, only to discover a torrential rain was falling. She would then sit under the outdoor table until the door was next opened and race back in … only to repeat the exercise the next time the door was opened.

Being one of six indoor cats at times was problematic for Gracie. She was good with everyone as long as they keep their distance, but God forbid they would pass within her sphere of influence. I don’t recall Gracie ever getting into a catfight, but she did have more then her fair share of screaming fits – mostly at 2 a.m.

Gracie’s quality of life took a noticeable tick up when we built the cat enclosures. Attached to the house by a cat door, it allowed Gracie the opportunity to be outside on summer nights, while at the same time giving us the peace of mind knowing she was not out roaming. And now that I think of it, I think it was the introduction of the cat enclosures that ended Gracie’s sleeping with us – for as much as she liked us, she loved being outside at night.

It seemed like Audrey’s prediction that Grace would ‘grace our lives for years to come,’ was going to be true. But in November 2019, during her routine yearly veterinary checkup, a mass in her stomach was found. It was subsequently found to be lymphosarcoma, a fairly common cancer in cats, but unfortunately a cancer battle few cats, if any, win in the end.

Even thought we knew the odds were long, we opted to do chemotherapy on her. If any cat was going to survive it, Grace would. She was in the best of health, other than having cancer of course, and carried a lot of weight going into the treatments.

All last spring and fall I found it hard to believe that she had cancer. Nothing really changed. Every morning she insisted on going out into her ‘jungle’ and every evening she played hard to get with it was time to come in. But as much as her system put up with the drugs to treat the cancer, Grace slowly grew tired on the repeated trips to the vets and to her, probably was a near non-stop series of shots and injections.

While the chemotherapy did slow down the growth of the cancer, it didn’t stop it. And slowly but surely the cat I once described as a ‘fat little tick’ was growing thin and gaunt.

Eventually the decision was made to end the treatments and let Gracie live out the remainder of her life in peace, which she did.

While she eventually she lost her interest in going outside, she never lost her interest in eating. However, with the cancer now almost fully impacting her intestines, she struggled to keep it down. With no fireplace to warm her, Gracie took up sleeping on a blanket on the kitchen counter under a light that bathed her in warmth. There she could watch the comings and going of all her housemates.

When she finally went into terminal decline, it was thankfully fast. One day she was walking around the house offering her opinion on everything, the next she was sedentary and withdrawn.

The last thing she felt was Audrey’s hand as she went to check on her. Grace let out one last meow and passed away.

Of all the animals we had, she was the last we wished to see die. Of course I would hate to have been forced to pick someone else to take her place, but still, losing Gracie was hard. She deserved a good long live, not simply 8 years.

Somewhere, sometime, another black cat will cross our paths, and when it does, it will have Gracie to thank when it discovers it is greeted with open arms into our home.

And Grace will look down from Heaven and give her opinion …