Cat Fur in My Cake ♥. This is how I’m grieving my cat Sprite, who was my sidekick for 21 years……

Last week on Halloween I appeared on television to create some festive fall treats. I made this pumpkin patch cupcake pull apart cake, and added my kitty Sprite to the top of some edible rice krispy hay bails to honor her. Recipe is at the bottom of this post. I wanted to dedicate this dessert, and this blog entry to her.

Before starting, I want to warn that this post is a little lengthy. When I went to publish this blog, I felt really vulnerable and nervous about opening up because pet grief isn’t a subject people linger on. Usually when we lose an animal, the social norm is to have a few days to talk about the grief we are feeling, and then move on. Pet grief is a subject that is often avoided. But it’s real, because our pets are like our family members. So I am hoping that by sharing my story, maybe I can help somebody else see and feel that it is ok to grieve for your animal, and all the hurt that you feel is real. It is OK to grieve in whatever way is needed. Because if you mask it, I believe that grief will escape into other areas of your life. One of the ways I grieved, was to bake this pumpkin patch cake, and put my little kitty Sprite on top. Like she was playing in a pumpkin patch ♥. Creating things out of food is my gift, and my healing place.

A week and a half ago, my fiery little orange tabby cat Sprite died. I’ve experienced true love with many animals, but nothing like what I did with Sprite. She was my soulmate in an orange fuzzy cat’s body, we were meant to be. My strongest memory of taking her home with me as a baby kitten was how adorably LOUD she was. She was passionate and fiery about everything, like a ginger should be. She was my first ginger baby, and the first cat I knew to latch onto and love me like I was her biological mother.

People always laugh and ask me why I named my cat after the soda pop (Sprite). But if you look a bit deeper into the meaning of what a Sprite is, you might understand how I came up with her name.

A Sprite is an ethereal, supernatural type of fairy who sparkles. Sprites are known to be very cute, intelligent, and are known to make themselves clearly understood. Sprites often accompany a pure hearted hero in their adventures (ahem, that would be me?! Hah). People have often mistaken me for a real life Rainbow Brite because of my love for color and my reputation for leaving glitter everywhere (I think it makes the world a more beautiful place). My cat Sprite was all of this and more. My quick reference to tell people about Sprite’s name origin is to tell them about “Twink”, Rainbow Brite’s “spritely” sidekick. Sprite was my magical furry friend who never went anywhere without me, and she most definitely made herself clearly understood.

Since Sprite passed away, people try to help me with my grief. They talk about how old she grew to be (21 years old, that’s amazing for a cat, they say). And while that is true, and I know the things people say only come from a caring place, I feel like the fact that we spent half my lifetime together makes our separation between life and death even more difficult.

While I’ve been grieving for my cat, I’ve also been remembering many things I had forgotten. Sprite truly was a magical creature. Her powers of love for me were mysterious. She knew the instant I came home. If I parked my car, Sprite knew it, and she’d sit behind my apartment door meowing for me. I knew this, because I could hear her meow for me as I opened the door from the outside parking lot and walked down the long hallway to my apartment. There she’d be on the other side of the door, missing me, after my long day at work.

My little spritely sidekick joined me on my very ambitious career moves. From my small hometown in Wisconsin, to Chicago, out to California, and back to Wisconsin again. She was there for me when nobody else was, and she was even there for me when I wasn’t there for her in the same way that she was. She had unconditional love for me. And that’s all she really ever had to give. Unlike we are as human beings, she was never going to run off for awhile, get busy with her own life and make mistakes. She was completely devoted and loyal to me. Even if she needed to go find her own personal space in a warm & dark place somewhere in our house for awhile.

An adventure that Sprite went on with me — was motherhood to a human baby. Not another cat, not another dog. To my daughter Rebel. Sprite used to sit on my belly while I was pregnant and purr to Rebel until the kicking from inside the belly stopped (I am assuming the purring helped Rebel fall asleep). When we came home 2 days after Rebel was born, Sprite was so excited she ran from across the living room, and jumped up on the couch to see the baby. I had heard so many stories from protective mothers and grandmothers that cats sometimes sit on babies’ faces, so unfortunately, my instinct as a brand new worrisome mommy, was to instantly put my hand out to stop Sprite from jumping up onto the couch. And now that Sprite has passed, this is where the guilt comes in. Sprite was a part of our family, she was excited to see me and our new baby. Why didn’t I let her in on this moment? If I could go back and change it, I would have scooped Sprite up and introduced her to Rebel instead of pushing her away. Because of this experience, I don’t think I’d ever tell a new mom to be wary of her fur baby. I’d hope to share this story with another new mom, so that she can make the best decision (without worry) about how to unite her baby with her cat (or dog or other fur baby).

Since I had Rebel, I noticed Sprite slowly started to hand her reigns over to my Rebel girl, who is another orange haired ginger baby (and is also known to be very vocal). I swear, my cat Sprite & my Rebel girl were cut from the same cloth up there in Heaven. They have very similar personalities. Both very fiery, and vocal about everything, and madly in love with their mama. If you don’t believe in Heaven, you wouldn’t have to go far for proof-just look at the three of us together. It’s the perfect match, perhaps “made in Heaven.”

The last few years, Sprite was in a lot of pain. She was losing a lot of weight, she’d scream out in the night like she needed me. Sometimes I’d go find her in the darkness, swoop her up and put her in bed with me like I did to comfort Rebel. Other times I couldn’t find her, so I figured that’s what she wanted and I just let her be alone. I visited the veterinarian several times these past few years, hoping that they could help her. And another part of me just kind of wanted permission to relieve her pain if there was nothing they could do to help her. But they always just sent her home, and said that even though her kidneys were slowly failing, she was doing great for her age. So I believed them, and I tried to soak up the moments that I could with my kitty. But I am not going to lie, it was hard seeing, and hearing her in pain.

I don’t think Sprite would have changed the past few years though, even when she was in pain. My husband Kyrik and I would always say that we thought Sprite had made the decision to live forever. I could tell she didn’t want to leave me behind. Her favorite person, and her favorite place, was me. Whenever I’d leave on a trip, she’d find a pile of my clothes as a substitute for my arms. Sprite would lay in the pile of clothes and refuse to leave them when anyone called for her. As soon as I was home, we’d make up for the time I was gone with what I call purr sessions (intense cuddles on the couch).

Sprite became friends with my daughter Rebel during the past few years Especially as Rebel grew into toddler mode. The night before Sprite passed away, she managed to climb up and rest her weary body on the edge of the bathtub while Rebel was inside of the bathtub taking a bath. I would like to believe she was sharing all of her secrets with Rebel, and passing down all of the things Rebel needed to know to take over for her. She knew she had to go soon, but she was still holding on. I don’t think she had an easy time imagining leaving me behind.

The day that she passed away, I wasn’t 100% sure it was actually going to happen. Remember? I thought she was going to live forever. I couldn’t imagine my life without Sprite. I had spent half of my lifetime with her (and all of my adult life). But Sprite was so sick. In the span of a few days, her body had started to wither away, I could feel an arrhythmia in her chest when I tried to count her pulse. She was following me around the house and begging me not to leave if I opened our front door. She slept near me and wouldn’t leave my side. She knew she was going to die, and she didn’t want to transition without me next to her.

I took Rebel to the babysitter the morning before Sprite died. We had called a different vet office for a second opinion (I was so scared my original vet was just going to send her home with nothing again, and at this point I couldn’t bear it). Her appointment wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon. I spent the morning with her. I wrapped Sprite’s frail little body up in a blanket, held her close to me, and we sat outside in the grass, listening to the birds and soaking up some sunshine. We reflected on our life together, and I shared stories about us that might make her happy. I carried her around the yard for a little tour-the animals she loved to watch from our window, the birds chirping, the green grass she used to love to chew on. This moment together was so spiritual and silent. There was this weird crisp smell in the air, of a fresh clean start, but I knew that new start I sensed wasn’t here on earth. That new crisp clean start I felt in the air was somewhere else, over that rainbow bridge people talk about. And that’s why this bittersweet feeling I am talking about is hard to grasp, or even explain unless it is something you’ve gone through before.

Before I put Sprite in her cat carrier to go to the vet, I held her close to me. I talked to her again, told her how much she was loved, and I gave her the permission to go right now if she wanted to skip the ride to the vet all together. Part of me was hoping she’d make that choice, but she didn’t. She held on.

The room they took us to in the new vet office must have been reserved for animals to make their transition. There was tranquil and almost heaven-like music playing, a comfy couch for us to rest on, and soft blankets available to wrap Sprite in for her comfort. I talked to the doctor after she entered the room with us and met Sprite for the first time. She felt Sprite’s kidneys, and her erratic heartbeat. She told me there was no doubt that there was no return to a pain free life for Sprite. I asked her if helping Sprite transition is what she would do if she were me, and she said yes.

The doctor and I cried together as I held Sprite in my arms for one of the last times. And in this moment, it was like Sprite just gave in. Her body relaxed, my very vocal Sprite didn’t really have a word to say, she just snuggled right into my body. I told Sprite (in my soothing mom voice) that she could just relax and close her eyes, but the doctor patted my hand and told me that Sprite wasn’t going to be closing her eyes. Sprite left with her eyes wide open, and I wondered what she was watching/or what she saw as her soul left her body. Her transition seemed peaceful and spiritual. It was beautiful and awful at the same time. I held her, the heavenly twinkling instrumental music playing, and 21 years of our life together whizzing by in my head, until she died. When I handed her body over to the vet, she was still warm. In between my tears I told the doctor that with Sprite’s death, I was leaving an entire chapter of my life behind. But I also knew I had done the best thing, for both of us. Thank God I didn’t have to find my Sprite dead, and alone somewhere in our house. And Sprite no longer had to follow me around the house, knowing that she was going to die soon, hoping that she’d die next to me. Her wish was granted. She was where she was wanted to be, in my arms, until she transitioned into the warm lap of an angel who took over for me.

After I came home, I sobbed for days. I also thought a lot about Sprite, and wondered how she was now, and I wished for a sign that she was watching over me.

I turned on the radio in the middle of this thought, and I heard the lyrics to a song from around 2000 (when Sprite was just a baby),
“And so I have to say before I go, that I just want you to know…I’ve found a reason for me…to change who I used to be, a reason to start over new..and the reason is you.” (Hoobastank, “The Reason”)
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I could feel Sprite’s soul in this song, telling me that she wanted to say that she was sorry she left me in pain, but she wanted me to know that she was starting over new now. And it was because we made that difficult decision together, so she was thanking me. I could also feel that even though she was starting over new, she still missed me.

Over the past week or so, it has gotten slightly easier. But what I’ve told people is that I will never get over this. I will never really “move on”… I will just create a brand new normal. Right now, the memories of holding my beloved soulmate kitty until she died are the freshest memories of us together in my mind. These memories bring me pain, but also love. Through this experience I have thought that grief is completely relentless. You can’t go over it, under it, around it. You have to go through it. And yes, it is ok to grieve like this, not only for a human-but for an animal too. But I also think one of the most important responsibilities we have as a pet owner is to be there for our animals until they take their last breath (if we can choose). And I am at peace with that decision.

One of the hardest things to do when I got home was stare at Sprite’s empty cat carrier. My friend came over and took it away. I don’t even know where her cat carrier is anymore. And not knowing has made me stronger. Sprite’s litter box is still in her kitty bathroom. I haven’t been able to open the door and throw it out.

I have to believe that pets are everyday angels, sent here to watch over us and soften our lives with their furry warm bodies, in a world that can be harsh, or sometimes even evil. The time they have here with us can be made so special if we allow it to be, because we know it will be short. If I could change anything about my time with Sprite, it is that I would have spent more time with her. There is never enough time. And the time that I have had, wasn’t enough of me soaking up the “present” moments.  It is true what they say-the stuff that matters at the end, is the time you spent loving and/or experiencing life with another person, or in my case, an animal. Who cares about all the hours I worked or about the cat food that spilled on the floor? Or the little things that Sprite used to do to annoy me?

A few days after Sprite’s death, Rebel walked into my room and woke me up in my bed in the morning. Rebel had never done this before. Waking me up in the early morning was typically a Sprite move, to snag a few cuddles with me in the morning sunshine (or to ask for some food). It was like Sprite had a pow wow with Rebel and asked her to fill in for her.

I’d like to say that my house is quiet (like in all the traditional grieving poems about a cat’s death). I guess it is quieter without Sprite now that she isn’t crying out in pain anymore. But it isn’t as quiet as it should be without her, because I have another ginger baby here. She is my new normal, she is the new chapter of fiery gingers in my life. Rebel was lucky to have known Sprite. She wouldn’t even really understand a cat, had Sprite not persevered through her pain these past few years to stick with us.

This next weekend I’m hosting a little kitty funeral for Sprite with a few close friends. I won’t be scattering her ashes anywhere, I am getting them made into a necklace because Sprite loved to be close to me. Instead we will drink “milk” cocktails, eat sushi, get cozy with warm blankets while I play some songs that remind me of her and I read this. I am also asking all of my friends that come to bring a donation for the local cat shelter in honor of Sprite.

This recipe dedicated to my fierce little gingers, Sprite & Rebel:
Pumpkin Patch Pull Apart Cupcake Cake

Pumpkin Spice Cupcake Ingredients:
2 1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 cup butter, softened (or 1/2 cup oil will work)
1 1/3 cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten until frothy
1 cup canned pumpkin
3/4 cup milk or buttermilk

Pumpkin Spice Buttercream Ingredients:
2 cups softened butter
1 cup canned/pureed pumpkin
8 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp pumpkin pie spice
4 tablespoons sweet cream almond milk creamer

Supplies / Ingredients Needed for Cupcake Cake:
Cake board (12×12 or 13×9)
1 dozen pumpkin spice cupcakes
1 batch of pumpkin spice buttercream
Shredded Wheat cereal
Assorted fall sprinkles
(3) mini rice krispy treats (can be purchased in snack aisle at the store)
Candy melts (light brown or white are best colors)
Small styrofoam block (from floral aisle)
Mellowcreme pumpkins
Mini frosting knife
Large frosting knife
Large ziploc bag

Optional ideas for cake toppers:
Mini toy farm animals or animals
Assorted spooky cardstock or sticker characters (can be purchased in the season aisle at the craft store)
Assorted colors of cardstock & string or twine
Wooden skewers
Glue gun
Hot glue
Scissors

Baking Instructions:
For cupcakes: Sift dry ingredients-flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, seasonings. Cream oil/butter and sugar until light & fluffy, beat in eggs gradually. Stir in sifted dry ingredients alternately with milk, blending until batter is smooth. Fill cupcake liners a little over 1/2-3/4 full. Bake for 22-25 minutes at 325. Let cool before decorating.
For pumpkin spice buttercream: In stand mixer using flat beater attachment, cream softened butter. pureed pumpkin, vanilla extract, pumpkin pie spice, and creamer until fluffy. Gradually add powdered sugar until frosting reaches desired stiffness. Hint: for cakes, add less powdered sugar to make the frosting easier to spread on the cake.
Cake Assembly & Detail:For the “hay” on top of the cake: Fill a large ziploc bag with shredded wheat cereal. Smash the cereal inside the ziploc bag with a rolling pin, until it resembles hay.  
For the “hay bails” on top of the cake: Place skewers inside of the bottom of 3 rice krispy treats. While holding the rice krispy on the skewer, frost the sides of rice krispy treats with melted candy melts, or with frosting. Quickly sprinkle the “hay” shredded wheat cereal on the sides and on top of the rice krispy treats, until completely covered/resembling hay bails. Poke the skewers into the styrofoam block to let the “hay bails” dry.
For the spooky ghosts on top of the cake: glue cardstock or sticker characters to a small wooden skewer using hot glue.
For a fall bunting banner cake topper: cut small triangle shapes out of cardstock. Using hot glue, glue the little triangles to twine. leaving enough room at the ends of the twine to tie around the skewers/sticks. Once the glue has dried, tie the strand of string in between the skewers. 
Assembling the cake: Place one dozen cupcakes in a square shape in the center of the cake board. Optional: Frost the bottom of each cupcake with frosting or melted candy melts to “glue” the cupcakes to the board so they don’t shift. Once the cupcakes are squared & centered on your cake board, spoon a generous amount of pumpkin spice buttercream on top of your cupcake cake. Using a large frosting knife, smooth the frosting evenly on top of the cupcake cake. Immediately after frosting, generously sprinkle “hay” (shredded wheat cereal) on top of the cake. Sprinkle as much or as little as you prefer. Scatter fall sprinkles on top of hay. Stack hay bails wherever preferred on cake. Top with candy pumpkins, fun fall decorations (banners, spooky ghosts), farm animals (I added my kitty cat Sprite).  Enjoy!