Charlie

In May 1998, Matt and I were new homeowners, planning a wedding, and just starting our life together.  Matt had a dog--a miniature dachshund named Shelby--when we met.  I really wanted a cat, but Matt had never owned one and wasn't too sure that he was a "cat person".  Finally, he agreed to be a cat owner on one condition.  No matter if the cat was a male or female he wanted to name the cat Charlie.  We brought home a 6-week old calico from a litter from my brother's cat.

When Charlie was about 8-weeks old, Matt and I had a small grease fire and Matt burned his hand trying to put the fire out (PSA:  don't carry a skillet of flaming grease across your kitchen and throw it in the sink).  With the help of our new neighbor, we took Matt to the ER at the small town hospital where we lived.  Matt's hand was checked out and he was advised to take ibuprofen for pain.  As young new homeowners, we didn't have any ibuprofen in stock.  By the time we left the hospital, it was late night and none of the local drug stores were open.  (Did I mention it was a small town?) Lucky for us, our kind new neighbor had some ibuprofen.  She gave us four Advil saying, "You can take two tonight and two in the morning, or if I were you, I'd take all four tonight."  Matt chose to take two ibuprofen and left the other two on the bedside table for the morning.

The next morning, Matt and I got up and started getting ready for work.  Matt called me over to look at Charlie, who was lying on the edge of the bed with her paws tucked under her, as cats do.  What was strange was that the cat's head kept drooping and her nose would brush the bed.  Just as I was telling Matt that I'd never seen a cat do that, the cat rolled over the edge of the bed and landed on her back.  Thought I to myself, "Uh, that's not right!"  I picked up the limp kitten, and soon noticed that the cat had vomited something the color of those undeniable coated Advil.

After a quick stop at the neighbors--she worked at a vet's office and confirmed that the limp kitten lying on her back in the palm of my hand was not healthy--we took Charlie to the vet where she was put on an IV and kept for observation.  The vet wasn't extremely hopeful because the kitten was so tiny.

Matt and I drove into work together and anxiously awaited news about the kitten.  Later  in the day, Matt came to pick me up from work and his first words to me were, "Guess who died today?"  I immediately started crying, thinking that we'd lost the sweet kitten.  Matt quickly corrected me, "No, Phil Hartman died."

Charlie survived the Advil and has been a part of one of our favorite stories from our early years together.

Today, Charlie went to heaven, and we will miss her.