Hannah came into my life when only two weeks old. Two of my young students had frightened a feral cat who was moving her kittens.  The mama cat dropped Hannah and my students not realizing that the mother would have come back for her baby, brought the tiny kitten home and then to school the next day.  My husband and I already had several cats at home, but I couldn't resist that tiny kitten. We took Hannah to our vet who said she was about two weeks old and amazingly healthy.  We bought formula and a kitten bottle. 

 

In spite of Michael's care, Hannah fiercely became my cat and would have nothing to with Michael.  She early took to rubbing faces and ears against mine. Hannah usually slept sprawled across me at night although sometimes she would snuggle in my right arm.  When we moved here to Wisconsin and bought a two story house, Hannah claimed the entire upper story as her territory and defended it against the other cats.  Hannah always got into bed on Michael's side and would walk across his forehead before coming over to me and settling down.  Of course before she would consider going to sleep, Michael had to rub both of her ears and then I had to rub faces with her and give her back, neck and shoulders a massage.



When Hannah wanted me to pick her up and hold her, she would sit up like a squirrel and wait for me to lift her against my left shoulder.  She loved snuggling especially when I was wearing my now 24 year old bath robe.



Hannah liked playing with a flexible wand toy that had metallic confetti attached.  We would drag it over the floor in our bedroom and Hannah would chase it, pounce on it and sometimes leap completely into the air.  





On May 18, 2004, I tood Hannah to our regular vet because she hadn't eaten for two days. I stayed awake all night because at times Hannah seemed to be having trouble breathing.  She sprawled across me for about an hour and then moved herself to bed.  At 3:15 a.m., May 19th, Hannah's breathing became labored so Michael & I got dressed and took Hannah to the Animal Emergency Center.  This was our first time there and we were treated with such kindness.  Hannah was gently examined and then placed in an incubator and given oxygen and a pain killer to relax her.  We were allowed to say good-night to her.  If I had only known that this would be the last time, I would have stayed longer. At 10 a.m. I talked to the vet who had taken over Hannah's care.  Hannah was much improved and alert which meant that tests planned for evening time would be done.  At 12:15 a.m., the vet telephoned to say that Hannah had stopped breathing.  In my shock I told the vet not to resiuatate Hannah instead of saying yes.  I killed my sweet girl thanks to my stupidty!  It seems that a tiny blood clot had been thrown loose and went either into Hannah's heart or her brain.  Michael came home from the job site where he was working and drove me to the center.  I took a baby blanket that I made in high school sewing class over 30 years ago to wrap Hannah in.  The center has a family room for grieving pet owners.  The vet brought Hannah to us wrapped in that baby blanket and then left us alone for a time.  Hannah looked so peaceful, as though she were sleeping.  I stroked her fur and talked to her.  The vet came back and listened to our stories about Hannah and then gave us time alone with her again.  Finally I surrendered Hannah to the vet's arms.  We've arranged for Hannah to be cremated as I couldn't bear the thought of burying her in our backyard and then leaving her when we sell our house in next 2-3 years.  I stroked Hannah's head one last time and said, "Good night, sweet girl."