Love lost

Last Saturday we took the kids down to Vernisaj Market to buy a kitten. When we saw this tiny little Siamese kitten we all immediately fell in love. Although there was a lot of chaos surrounding us, the moment Van picked her up she cuddled against him and started purring. After paying a rather large amount to the woman from whose flea infected kennel the kitten came, we drove home completely content. With a surprisingly little amount of debate, we decided to name her "Snowflake." (vs the name Van wanted - "Stryker" from The Sands of Iwo Jima) When we got home, we came to fully appreciate the sweet disposition of this kitten. Most cats hate to be flipped onto their bellies. Snowflake, however, would purr even louder and stretch out in order to maximize the surface area that could be rubbed. She let Ava carry her around the whole house, and laid patiently in her lap while she read her books. When ever anyone would sit or lay on the floor, she would climb onto their lap, or sit in the small of their back. As an added bonus, she took to her litter box right away! That night as Jared and I were watching a movie, Snowflake started breathing funny, and then threw up. We didn't think much of it. We thought that the change in food might have cause her stomach to become upset. When she threw up the next night we became a little bit worried. On Monday we called the Vet, and he was scheduled to come over the following evening. Snowflake remained sweet as ever. When the kids and I got home from school/work the next night, Ava was so excited to get her kitten. She ran up the stairs ahead of me and ran to Snowflakes little cat house. I heard her say, "Mommy, there are bugs on Snowflake..." Then she said, "Wake up Snowflake!" My heart dropped and I ran up the remaining 5 stairs and rushed over. Ava was holding her kitten, whose arms were sticking straight out. I gasped, and Ava screamed and dropped the cat. She was dead, and the remaining fleas were jumping ship. I quickly shut the door, and grabbed Ava in my arms to console her. By this time, Van had reached the top of the staircase and was immediately alarmed by the tears he found streaming down both our faces. I took the kids into the family room and we talked about Snowflake. For the next hour the kids were un-consolable. Van was genuinely distraught, and Ava didn't understand. I tried to explain to her that Snowflake went to sleep and died peacefully and that she is up in heaven now. Wow, THAT was the wrong thing to say. Ava was completely freaked out. She kept asking "why." Why did she die? What made her sick? Was she going to die if SHE went to sleep? and on and on and on. Van of course started to deal with it in his own way - he tried to make the situation lighter by making jokes. Well for one of his jokes he told Ava that Snowflake died because a Zombie bit her. That was the end of Ava's ability to handle the situation for the night. She would not let us put her down, she was clinging to us with a surprising amount of force. Trying to pry her hands off my neck in order to brush her teeth and put her jammies on was a feat. Needless to say, she slept with us that night. And even though after the flow of tears, Van put on a tough act, I'm pretty sure he cried himself to sleep.

PS That night we had a friend who spoke Armenian contact the lady we bought Snowflake from.  She denied any responsibility, refused to give us our money back, or to replace her with a different kitten. To add insult to injury she vehemently insisted that we had somehow caused her death. Great. Thanks for that.