Our musical cat

When we carried our cat to the vet this evening, we knew we would not bring her home alive.
Bilbi would no longer accompany us around Tzur Hadassah, sit in anticipation in the front row of our house concerts to listen to Yedidia's violin, regularly hiss at her feline 'competitors' and inspire Rachel's scientific essays about "Animals and Music". She would never again sit heavily on our lap, scatter her litter and food in the guest’s toilet and come happily running towards us at the gate.
With a heavy heart Rachel, Daniel and I took her for a last stroll down to the corner... to Vivi, who was busy with some other pets when we arrived.
Vivi doesn't believe in putting down animals. In her surgery you are not allowed to touch a bug on the floor or a fly on the wall. "You mustn't kill these small creatures' she once told Yedidia, when he stepped on a roach on her tiles.
In the past she attended to our ailing budgie Yoyo for free, because "it's an honor for me to treat such an old bird" and "he doesn't want to die yet". Since then we know that Vivi will do anything to keep an animal alive.
When Bilbi fell sick and was diagnosed with a chronic gum infection due to feline AIDS, the bills for treatment became too heavy. Being a fatal disease anyway, we stopped visiting Vivi and suffered through a long year of keeping Bilbi alive on fluids. Then she stopped eating altogether and we decided to end it all on that same evening.

Rachel wants to become a vet herself. She already assisted in an operation on one of our younger cats and was therefore put in charge for leading the procedures.

The time waiting for our turn seamed like eternity. Looking out from the blanket, thin with big astonished eyes, unsuspecting, purring and rhythmically moving her paws against the warm wooly wrap in which Rachel held her in the tiny waiting area, my 'musical cat' made me choke. With tears long held back I had to flee into the yard for some air followed by Daniel. Only Rachel was now left to claim the deadly injection and cope with the notorious discussion 'whether Bilbi wants to die'. Through the window we watched her bravely standing her ground: Yes, she had a nice long life and now she shouldn't suffer any longer. But after a while even Rachel started to loose her initial composure and it was time to return, now all of us in tears encouraging Vivi to do what she hates doing.
Daniel later insisted on digging the grave in our garden and we buried her in relieved silence.
Bilbi joined us as a little kitten 12 years ago at Hanukkah when Daniel was just two. She grew quickly and he was worried that ‘she will soon outgrow her fur’. Then we still lived in a tiny flat in the center of Jerusalem and Bilbi was our only cat, our faithful companion and intrigued by everybody playing an instrument. She endured three other kittens we took in, raised and later lost. Soon it will be Hanukkah again, but with her buried besides Yoyo in the garden. We will always remember her as our extraordinary ‘musical cat’!