Remembering Lita

Pardon me for making a slight digression in my posts on leadership, GTM, selling, AI, and other things.

On Friday, I lost Lita. Lita was about 11 years old, a rescue cat. She was special in so many ways. She touched everyone she met. While it seems odd, I think she made me a better person (as all our pets do).

I found her–rather she found me about 3.5 years ago. I wanted another cat to keep Harley company. At the shelter, I was actually looking at a couple of other cats. They put me in a room with about a dozen cats, including the 3 I had my eye on. But one cat kept coming up to me and nuzzling me. She eventually jumped in my lap and looked me in the eyes. It was game over, she had made a one call close.

Taking her home, I realized she was immediately in charge of everything. Even though Harley was her senior, she quickly swatted him in line. She, also, trained me. Feeding times, what she liked and didn’t like. Her favorite spot on the couch, the window seat in the office. Over time, she started participating in Zoom calls. I suspect she was listening and watching, but when the calls started getting boring, she would walk across the keyboard, sit and stare into the camera. She had actually figured it out.

Visitors were immediately taken by her. They commented on her face, eyes, and beautiful black coat. When they sat down, she would immediately jump on their laps, expecting their attention be focused on her, not on anyone else in the conversation.

She and Harley had a testy relationship. Where Harley had been used to curling up with his previous sister, Lita would have none of that, she only curled up with humans. I could tell they liked each other, they were always attentive to each other, they could tell when something was off. Lita taught Harley to be an acrobat. Because she would swat at him as they would be walking to the kitchen, Harley learned how to traverse the house by leaping from couch to buffet to dining room table, to kitchen counter and back.

Lita also taught me the rules. She would sleep with me, carefully defining her space on the bed. She was immovable, which caused me to perform some acrobatics if I had to get up in the middle of the night.

I, also, learned how really intelligent she was. She quickly identified where I kept the food, when she was hungry, she would go sit bey that cabinet, She learned how to open things I didn’t want her to open. She could sense when I needed some comfort and would force her way onto my lap. She mastered ending Zoom calls.  It was fascinating to watch the way her mind worked–others also commented on seeing the wheels spinning.

Lita, Harley, and I started a new journey almost a year ago. She was having some digestive troubles. Taking her to the vet it was immediately determined these were very serious. I rushed her to the specialist vet. For a couple of days, they ran tests, scans, x-rays, finally determining a serious and very rare blockage in her “biliary tubes.” That was on March 11, 2024. They couldn’t do anything surgically, we thought her time had come, on March 12, I was about to make that decision.

But as I said, Lita had a way of stealing everyone’s heart. Overnight, the vets had found there had been surgeries correcting this situation, and fortunately one of the best surgeons was at the UC Davis Veterinary College. One of the vets had studied under him, talked to him and he immediately scheduled surgery on March 13, 2024.

For some reason, on that day, I wrote in my journal that it was the first day of her new life.

The surgery was successful. She seemed fully recovered, but we had to to through bimonthly check ups to make sure the growth had stopped.

 

Things seemed fine until late December. She started struggling again. The vets at UCD were seeing other blood, liver, kidney problems, but the growth seemed contained. She started a daily regimen of antibiotics and other drugs. When I had to administer those, it was the only time we ever fought–I have the scratches to prove it. But she was brave. The vets and I came to the conclusion we would have to do this for months, if not forever.

But I noticed changes in her behavior. She wasn’t eating as much. She would want to be by herself for part of the day. She stopped participating in Zoom calls–a few regulars asked about her. And a week ago, she got even worse. I rushed her to UCD, they gave her transfusions. They talked about another surgery, but were concerned about the viability.

On the afternoon of the 14th, I was sitting with her at the vets. She was very subdued, but as I looked into her eyes, I realized she was trying to tell me something.

I suddenly realized all the decisions I had been making over the last year, but particularly over the past two months had been all about me. She was so important to me, that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. But in those moments, staring into her eyes, I realized my decisions needed to be all about her. I needed to act on her best interests, not mine.

Staring into her eyes, she was telling me it was time.

She had one year and one day of her new life. A life where she focused on everyone but herself.  Her time was used in creating joy for everyone she met, but particularly Harley and me (Yes, Harley started curling up with her and she wanted him to.)

It’s funny where and who we can learn things from, particularly some of the most important lessons of our lives.

Lita taught me so much, but it’s that final lesson that was the most important.

I hope I can live up to the standard she would expect of me, thinking more of what’s right for those I work with and share my life with.

And Harley and I miss her, but will cherish the impact she had on us and everyone she met.

Afterword: I have to thank my dear friend, Charlie Green, for his thoughtfulness and help in understanding. He lost “Sammy” about 11 years ago and wrote a moving post on Sammy. One sentence struck me: And I know now, better than before, how many of you have gone there before, and know exactly what I’m feeling – and I, you.

Afterword:  Regular readers will know that I put an AI generated commentary at the end of posts.  At first, I thought I couldn’t do it for this one.  But when I heard the discussion this tool generated, I couldn’t not publish it.  Enjoy!