I make my turn and head for Peggy's final destination, the Humane Society of Westminster. It's an hour-drive, so I have some time to think. But I don't feel anything. I drive through Westminster and continue north towards Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
Wow! where is this place? Finally, the woman in the GPS tells me to turn right onto a country lane. It hugs a small hill overlooking a pleasant, little valley with a small pond at the bottom. I park the car and get out. Geese rest on the water; it's a beautiful day for December. I walk into the building and see a room full of cats to my left. An older woman helps me check Peggy in.
"It will be $40 to euthanize her," she says.
"But an employee told us it would be free," I protest.
"Are you having financial difficulties?"
"Well, it did cost us over $500 in vet bills to get Peggy's diagnosis."
Though I point out she only has my word, she readily agrees to not charge us. I thank her and when we're done, another employee takes Peggy to the back. Now I have to wait.
***
It's October 1, 2013, and I'm heading to the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association, or AOPA, in Frederick, Maryland to check on job prospects. On the way there, I stop off at my boss's sprawling 40 acre estate to see it for the first time. The estate is well-hidden off a small road and up a small country lane in Mt. Airy.
What greets me is a stately home that's really just two homes in one. In addition to James (my boss) and his family, James's brother-in-law and his family live in the house. I pass an incomplete horse barn, which James has been feverishly building for several months. I go up to what I think is the front door and knock. James lets me and and takes me around his house.
At one point, we go into the basement, which is in reality, a pottery shop that his in-laws run. While in the shop, a beautiful Russian Blue cat, begging for an ear scratch, rubs against my leg.
"What's that?" I thought. "It's hobbling. Oh, I see, it's missing a leg."
"Her name is Peggy," James says.
James offhandedly offers her to me and explains that they keep her outside because her friendliness is a tripping hazard for the shop's customers.
"She's a feisty cat," he says. "She easily handles our two other cats who try to harass her."
Peggy wasn't always James's cat. She hobbled onto his property some time before and adopted his family. It wasn't until James's vet came to his house that they found out where Peggy came from. James never explained why the vet came to his house; maybe it was to check on James's horses.
Anyway, the vet saw Peggy and mentioned that she had been his cat, but didn't offer to take her back. Peggy had been hit by a car, the vet said. That's why she was missing her back right leg and it's why her tail was short.
I'm amazed that she had hobbled from the vet's home to James's without being attacked and eaten by a fox. It's clear that Peggy had a deep account at the Bank of Life and had been wise with her money.
I bid James goodbye and continue on to AOPA. I later tell Micaela about Peggy and mention it might be nice to get her for Christmas. She agrees and I talk to James about it.
I arrange to take my two girls and pick her up on Christmas Eve. We bring her home and she becomes an important part of our lives, especially mine and Hannah's. Her spryness continues to amaze me as she goes up and down our stairs faster than us.
She maintains a good standing at the Bank of Life, cashing in one of her lives when she disappears soon after we get a dog. Months later, a neighbor informs us Peggy was being taken care of by another neighbor, who watches over many strays. When he finds out she's our cat, he lets us take her home. While she shied away from our dog before, now she dares our beagle to attack her by sleeping on the same couch. She's clearly taken back her domain. But her account at the Bank of Life runs out.
In November, 2015, we notice she has gained a lot of weight, which is uncharacteristic for her. We monitor her situation and finally decide her body cavity was filling with fluid. We take her to the vet, where they drain a large bowlful of fluid. Peggy has cancer, they say, and it's terminal.
***
"I'm sorry for your loss," the Humane Society worker said as he hands me a bag with Peggy's lifeless body inside.
The bag is decomposable, meaning I would be able to bury Peggy in the bag.
I mutter thanks and as I'm walking out another employee expresses his condolences. I think about Peggy on the way home.
When I get home I put Peggy on the picnic table and the kids clamor to see her. I ask them not to open the bag, but they want to see her. I've never liked seeing dead bodies, even my Grandma Hess's when she died in her sleep, before the morgue took her body away.
I finally get around to burying her early in the evening, and my second daughter helps me. Or at least tries to. I'm still upset from Peggy's death that I end up driving my daughter away with my ill-temper. All day since returning home I have been snappy,
Finally, night comes and it's time for sleep, In a few days I've moved on, but will always remember the cat who never let a missing leg affect her ability to have a normal life.
I finally get around to burying her early in the evening, and my second daughter helps me. Or at least tries to. I'm still upset from Peggy's death that I end up driving my daughter away with my ill-temper. All day since returning home I have been snappy,
Finally, night comes and it's time for sleep, In a few days I've moved on, but will always remember the cat who never let a missing leg affect her ability to have a normal life.











