Remembering Lexy

Hello, friends. This is an overdue post, for sure. It has taken me a while to sit down and put words to paper because it is not an easy one for me to write. I have been determined to get this post up before the year's end, and I'm just making it. 

Five months and nine days ago Lexy made her transition to the Rainbow Bridge. (I know many people cringe at the thought of the “Rainbow Bridge,” but it brings me comfort. I truly believe whatever soothes us in times of grief is what we should turn to.) I wanted to write her memorial post much sooner than this, but the healing journey that accompanies grief is often a long, and sometimes lonely, one. In my mind, writing the words to this post and publishing it will mean the legacy of Lola and Lexy will be over, as well as my identity as a cat blogger, writer, and pet influencer. It also feels as if the door will be shut on some of the happiest memories of my life. 

Lexy LOVED the camera and was always the best poser!

Lexy and I started our life alone together, and it ended with just the two of us again. After she left, my world was empty and the quiet was deafening. Finding the words to memorialize Lexy has surprisingly been a challenge. I thought there was no way I could top Lola’s memorial post, but then I realized I don't have to. All I need to do is write from the heart.

Lexy never met a box she didn't like.

Many of our long-time followers know that I had an exceptionally special relationship with Lola. She was that kind of cat. When she claimed a person she set the parameters of that relationship, and I never met anyone who could resist that Tabby charm. Lexy was a different kind of cat. Although I had that special relationship and bond with Lola, there is no doubt that Lexy was my best friend and that she chose me to be her one and only person. Losing her was heartbreaking on a different level.

I lived without a cat for 16 years. The pain and guilt over losing my heart cat, Marvin, in 1994 was so great I told myself I was done with pets. And then, very unexpectedly, Lexy and I crossed paths. On April 10, 2010, I ended up in Petco with my family. There was an adoption event in progress and I found myself gravitating to that area of the store. The volunteers asked me if I was interested in adopting, and I quickly replied that I was not. And then it happened…I saw this beautiful black and white cat with the cutest little pink nose sitting in a cage, frightened and nervous. I fell in love instantly and started making arrangements to adopt her. A week later, I brought her home forever, and my life was never the same.

That’s how fast I made one of the best decisions of my life. As I write this, I realize that as fast as Lexy came into my life, she left just as quickly. This is one of the reasons closure has been difficult for me.

Lexy brought me endless joy and laughter. She was willful, determined, funny, and resourceful. She was always up to something and made me laugh every day. Although she was never a lap cat, she would let me know when she wanted pets and attention by tapping me with her paw. When I received that tap, Lexy got all the love she wanted.

"I bet I can get those treats."

"Got 'em!"

In many ways, Lexy and I were two peas in a pod. We were both frequently misunderstood, and people incorrectly believed we loved being loners. We were introspective and contemplative with our intelligence often being underestimated. We could both be frequently seen standing on the sidelines while others tooted their own horn, wishing we could speak up for ourselves or that we could get a word in edgewise when others assumed control in conversations. I would often tell her, “It’s okay, Lexy. As long as we understand each other, that’s all that matters.” I imagine sharing the spotlight (and me) with a cat like Lola wasn’t always easy. But I’m sure she knew she was always my best friend.

Lexy taught me to open my closed heart and that it is okay to love again after loss. She taught me to focus on the happy memories of my past and to let those memories pave the way to healing. Without her, I never would have healed from losing Marvin. And to honor her and the lessons she has taught me I will focus on the happy memories of the life I shared with my beautiful girls. All those memories are now stored in a paw-shaped cocoon deep inside my heart, along with my memories of Marvin. Right where she taught me to keep them. They will live there forever and are only one thought away when I need comfort.

One of my favorite movie sagas is The Lord of the Rings. In The Fellowship of the Ring, as Frodo is departing from Lothlorien, Galadrial gives him the gift of "the Light of Earendil, our most beloved star" and tells him, "May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out." 14 years, eight months, and 21 days ago I found my own Light of Earendil sitting in a cage, waiting for her forever home. (I like to think she was waiting just for me.) Lexy, I hope you know how much you lit up not only my darkest places, but my entire life. You will shine bright in the night sky, my beloved star, right next to your sister. And one day I will be up there with you and the three of us will shine brightly together once again. Until then, I will miss you for the rest of my forever, and a day.

Dawn

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