Welcome to Fiona Trebuchet's Rainbow Bridge Memorial Residency
Fiona Trebuchet's Rainbow Bridge Pet Loss Memorial Residency Image
Memories of Fiona Trebuchet
For photos of Fiona, please scroll to the end of this page.

Fiona was my best friend and housemate for 17 wonderful years. She got her middle name, Trebuchet, from the way she would lightly hop onto my lap. (A trebuchet is a type of catapult.) She was a real lap cat, loved people, and greeted everyone who visited. I miss her greeting me at the door every evening. She loved stealing popcorn, so I learned to eat it without butter and salt. I let her ride free from her carrier in the car sometimes, and she always stood up and looked out the driver's side window as we got close to home. She just knew! In her later years, if I stood too long looking into the refrigerator, she climbed inside; what a trusting soul!

She was a medium hair, sometimes called the World's Softest Cat by my nephews. They paraphrased a Gilbert and Sullivan tune the first time they met you, "For Fiona is a cat, and a soft cat too!"

She died on Epiphany, 2015. Here's a poem I wrote that month. (She had a thin white stripe from her bib to her lap, so I used to say it was the zipper of her cat suit, and she was really a little person inside.) She loved to nap on my lap on long car rides to Maine!

How She Went

Fiona complained, "Constrained!"
until I flipped her case's latch
then curled, satisfied,
between lap and steering wheel.

So small she plunged downstairs
two and two,
mittens, socks.

Her tail trailed forgotten,
no lofty banner,
but lush whiskers
framed her questing face.

Her bib dripped
a lone bright stripe,
as if soft coat unzipped,
slipped off, at will.

-- CJL


Here is a link to a video of Fiona playing with her favorite toy:
Let me know if it doesn't play for you. I'm not sure about Facebook's public access.


What a comfort this site is! Yes, it's a little schmaltzy with all the talk about "fur babies" playing together in the meadow,
but the vision is consoling, and the words of other grieving owners very affecting.
I have had this site up less than one day, and already, Fiona has
new friends on both sides of the bridge. Thank you for the wonderful cards and comments!


Dear Fiona,
I can't leave for work without looking in on this page, even though it makes me cry. Uploading some pictures last night made me smile at least.

I don't know how people live alone without pets. I cry while commuting and work late so I can delay opening the door where you no longer greet me.

The February snow caused so many leaks, three rooms have the walls opened so now I sleep in the loft with your ashes. Pastor G promised a ceremony to scatter them but we are waiting for the snow to melt. I dream of adopting another cat, but not until all the repairs are finished, and I don't know when that will be. All that banging, toxic paint, and open doors would be bad for a new kitty, and I want the next one to feel peaceful here. It almost feels like God is punishing me because I failed you, but that's pretty self-centered to think I condemned New England to all this snow! I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm only human. Today is the going away lunch for my best friend at work, so I am being abandoned there, too. Well, time to go get dressed and put on that fake smile I have worn since Epiphany, the day you died. Somehow I will fake my way through Easter alleluias, can't let the choir down. Remember how you used to help me practice on the piano bench? You were always there for me. I miss you terribly.


Dear Fiona,
Do you remember the day we met? Nov 31, 1997. You had been eating on Penny's back porch with Batman, the other stray, and it snowed, so she caught you and brought you inside and shut you in a little room. Her husband said with 12 other cats (she bred Ragdolls), no more for her. But she knew I had lost Lucy, my 14-year-old Holstein colored (white with black marks) kitty on Labor Day to lung cancer. I watched Princess Diana's funeral on TV and cried for Lucy... So Penny told me about you at coffee hour, prefacing her comments with, "It's probably too soon for you, but.." and I came over after church with my carrier.

I opened the door to the little room and sat in a rocker. You came over and hopped into my lap, and the radio played Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture. I sat and stroked you and felt peaceful despite the stormy music. Penny came in and stared. "She let me pet her, but never would sit on my lap," she said. I took you home and gave you a Celtic name because of that song. This Valentine's Day, I tried to request the Hebrides Overture for you but missed the station's deadline.


Dear Fiona,
Today I got a free offer for a pet tag from a photo site, so I uploaded 2 photos of you to make a pendant for myself. I can wear you over my heart when it comes.
It was a struggle to design it. I wanted the heart shape instead of round but the design limitations required the pendant hole to pierce your sweet head, so I switched to the round shape, which has an extended edge for the hole. The photos were such closeups that the edges of your ears didn't make it, but it will still be nice, I promise. Even if it isn't perfect, it will be something to keep. The bonus was that I found some photos of you that I didn't know I had, so I uploaded a couple more to this page.


Dear Fiona,
Sunday I cleaned house for M's visit. I vacuumed up your hair, but didn't add it to the little bag on your memorial because I didn't like the way the vacuum clumped it. I have some of your whiskers and a bit of hair that is fine and soft. I picked that bit off your chair. The memorial garden at church is still snowy, and Pastor has announced vacation plans at the end of April, so I don't know when your service will be; I should ask him if he can squeeze it in after Easter, but he is probably waiting to see if the snow melts. I went for a long walk in the sun with S, B, and a dog she is pet sitting. The dogs were sweet and the puppy snuggled in my lap. When I said goodbye, the dogs all crowded around me and poked their noses at my hands, and Izzy squeaked her toy at me. Maybe they sensed how sad I am. I felt a lot better afterwards.


Dear Fiona, it is the first anniversary of your death.

Remembering that awful day still brings tears, but time has softened the pain. I no longer cry every day on the way to work, but only sometimes, like when I hung your tree ornament, or when I found it on the floor.

My beautiful girl, there will never be another like you, but I hurt too much to live alone. I opened our home to two homeless fur babies on September 12. They are not as welcoming to my friends as you were; their lives must have been hard; they hide instead. But they are loving to me. Watching them wash each other and sleep together brings me peace. Jenna is a feisty brown tiger, full grown at age 5 but only 8 pounds. She is my lap girl and acrobat. Desi, age 3, is an affable clown, 15 lbs, who loves the fishing rod toy and talks to me in his incongruously high voice. When they meet me at the door each night, my house feels like a home again.

Thank you for all you taught me about keeping kitties happy. I will do my best to fill their lives with love.


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