Good-bye, Dear Gandalf

This weekend was General Conference for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. When I was a kid in Idaho, we borrowed someone's little, portable black and white television to see it (my parents didn't believe in owning a television almost the entire time I was a child) or we used the radio. In Minnesota, we went to the chapel to watch it broadcast on satellite, since having a satellite in those days was only for the wealthy who had enough of a yard to support the huge dish. Now, of course, living in Utah, we can see it on television or cable or satellite, stream it on the internet, or get it on radio. Since we relegated the big-screen back to the basement family room and we have refused to pay for satellite or cable television for several years now (and the antenna doesn't work very well down there), and because the computers aren't in places where it is possible for all the family to watch at once, we ended up listening to the radio. I felt a little like we'd traveled back in time.

Conference was good and I loved the talks, but I wasn't completely focused this time. Along with the worry about my MIL and her operation (she's doing fine, by the way), there was an emotional upheaval about one of the kittens. Gandalf, the little white kitten, was obviously not well. He had stopped eating and was getting progressively weaker. He hadn't grown and thrived like his siblings, and I suspect it was because his rib cage was malformed. Yu is a very small cat, so it's possible that being squished in her small womb with two other kittens may have caused this malformation, which then made it very difficult to breathe, which made it impossible to eat, which made him weak and small. However it came about, it was obvious he wasn't going to make it much longer. Most of the kids were beside themselves with grief, and they spent the day taking turns holding him carefully as he slept.

By evening, his breath was coming slower and slower. Husband and I left to take Jazzee (our day dog) back to Ruth's house, and by the time we got home, Gandalf was gone. Elannah has taken it the hardest. I don't think she went for more than a few minutes yesterday without tears falling down her face, and she was still distraught this morning. I was harsh and forced her to go to school, as I did with all the children including Gabrielle, who was certain last night that she wouldn't be able to get through school without bursting into tears.

We lay his tiny little body on one of his kitten blankets in a shoebox and covered him with another blanket. Joseph, after a burst of inspiration, ran upstairs and printed off a picture of Gandalf, which we placed in the shoebox as well. Services and burial will be held this evening.