I can really relate to the pain of losing a cat to renal failure--and would like to share the tribute I wrote to him.
Tribute to Toast
Two days after Christmas of 2005 Toast lost his valiant fight against kidney disease. His death was very sudden, but preceded by an extended period of well-being.
He enjoyed Christmas Day with us. The weather was beautiful, and Toast wanted to be outside. My husband and I, along with relatives from Nebraska, sat outside with him. He was the center of attention, as usual, lying in the middle of our circle as we ate our sandwiches, trying to tempt Toast with a variety of foods and treats. He refused everything, but it was easy to see he was still happy. Toast had a very expressive face, and his smile was mostly in the eyes—a kind of half-closed look of contentment.
Six months earlier I had taken Toast to the vet because he wasn’t feeling well. Afterward, the vet told me that his kidney function tests were off the charts. “I’ve never seen a cat survive with a BUN and Creatinine this high,” he said. “I recommend you let us put him down today. He must be suffering a lot.” I shook my head. It was Friday late afternoon. “I’ll call you on Monday,” I said.
When we got home, Toast disappeared into the closet and didn’t come out for two days. Every hour or two throughout that night and the next day I went into the closet to check him, expecting to find him dead. All I could do was put my head beside his, stroke him gently, and whisper, “Please don’t die, Toast. I love you so much, and I need you! And, I prayed—endlessly.
Early Sunday morning, Toast came out of the closet, jumped up on the bed, and rubbed his soft cheek against mine. He was purring loudly and wanted food! For the next six months he ate voraciously, climbed trees, went for daily walks, played, and was perfectly normal and happy. The vet was astonished, and said he had never seen anything like it. I called him the cat with ten lives. I never took him back to the vet. I simply rejoiced and thanked God.
Toast lived a long, healthy life—for a cat born with serious kidney disease. On December 27th, 2005, when he started into his second day refusing food and water, I knew the time had come. Toast simply went to sleep on my lap —with the help of a very kind, female veterinarian who came to the house—as I petted, loved, and kissed him.
Toast was my miracle cat and I truly adored him. He was my best friend, my constant companion, the joy of my life, and the inspiration for my work. He will live on in my heart forever.
Trisha Yeager Menke
Tribute to Toast
Two days after Christmas of 2005 Toast lost his valiant fight against kidney disease. His death was very sudden, but preceded by an extended period of well-being.
He enjoyed Christmas Day with us. The weather was beautiful, and Toast wanted to be outside. My husband and I, along with relatives from Nebraska, sat outside with him. He was the center of attention, as usual, lying in the middle of our circle as we ate our sandwiches, trying to tempt Toast with a variety of foods and treats. He refused everything, but it was easy to see he was still happy. Toast had a very expressive face, and his smile was mostly in the eyes—a kind of half-closed look of contentment.
Six months earlier I had taken Toast to the vet because he wasn’t feeling well. Afterward, the vet told me that his kidney function tests were off the charts. “I’ve never seen a cat survive with a BUN and Creatinine this high,” he said. “I recommend you let us put him down today. He must be suffering a lot.” I shook my head. It was Friday late afternoon. “I’ll call you on Monday,” I said.
When we got home, Toast disappeared into the closet and didn’t come out for two days. Every hour or two throughout that night and the next day I went into the closet to check him, expecting to find him dead. All I could do was put my head beside his, stroke him gently, and whisper, “Please don’t die, Toast. I love you so much, and I need you! And, I prayed—endlessly.
Early Sunday morning, Toast came out of the closet, jumped up on the bed, and rubbed his soft cheek against mine. He was purring loudly and wanted food! For the next six months he ate voraciously, climbed trees, went for daily walks, played, and was perfectly normal and happy. The vet was astonished, and said he had never seen anything like it. I called him the cat with ten lives. I never took him back to the vet. I simply rejoiced and thanked God.
Toast lived a long, healthy life—for a cat born with serious kidney disease. On December 27th, 2005, when he started into his second day refusing food and water, I knew the time had come. Toast simply went to sleep on my lap —with the help of a very kind, female veterinarian who came to the house—as I petted, loved, and kissed him.
Toast was my miracle cat and I truly adored him. He was my best friend, my constant companion, the joy of my life, and the inspiration for my work. He will live on in my heart forever.
Trisha Yeager Menke
