I received the call tonight that my childhood cat, Nikki, had died today. I had no idea that it would hurt this much - I keep trying to comfort myself that she had a long and wonderful 16 year life, but I'm really weighed down by a crushing sadness.
We got Nikki when I was ten years old - our first and only family pet. She was a beautiful little grey kitten with a tiny bit of white on her chest - very regal looking, right to the end, with a long narrow face and huge green eyes. Even as a kitten she was shy and a bit stand-offish, but she bonded quickly with my family, and was a key part of my childhood. We have so many pictures of her being dressed up in different outfits, being carted around, led around on a harness, doing tricks (I taught her how to sit, lie down and roll over in one afternoon!). Even writing that is a bit heartbreaking - the last time I saw her at Christmas, she was a bit arthritic and achy, but she'd still sit and lay down for me on command.
I moved out on my own when I was 19, but was fairly close by and saw Nikki often. She always welcomed me home eagerly, and then would sleep on my bed for days after I left. She wasn't the most affectionate cat, but was loving in her own way, and was SO incredibly smart and persistent! She made her opinions known, and in her later years got a bit soft and started sleeping with my parents and becoming more of a lap cat.
After having some vomiting episodes and refusing to eat, my mom took her to the vet a few weeks ago where they determined that she had seriously reduced kidney function. The vet was hopeful, though, as she was still bright and alert and pretty much herself. He gave her a few medications that should have helped her to feel better and eat again. The last few weeks have been so painful for my parents - try as they might, they couldn't get her to eat much, and my dad (who pretends not to be as attached to her as he is) made her a liquid mixture of her dry food (she wouldn't touch canned food, the vet said that usually in the case of kidney failure there's something in the scent of it that they can't stand) and syringed it into her mouth.
She seemed to be getting slightly better over the weekend - my mom was alone with her and they had an amazing time, "dancing" together to Michael Buble and cuddling at night. However, last night she took a turn for the worse and had several violent vomiting episodes and seemed to throw a clot in her leg, which temporarily paralyzed it. Although she only had use of three legs, she still dragged herself up to sleep with my parents. Tearfully, they took her to the vet this morning, who gently recommended that it was her time. He sedated her to make her comfortable, and my parents had some time to cuddle her before the final injection.
We knew it was coming, and I suppose that of course it doesn't make it any easier, but I still feel so crushed. In the past few days, I felt worried for her, but generally I was of the sentiment that she had a long, wonderful life, and that's how it goes. However, I was totally shocked and so, so upset to hear that it actually happened today - I really broke down when my mom asked me if I wanted to have her buried with the little blanket I knit her when I was twelve.
It's just so much of my own history wrapped up in this cat - she was there through so many pivotal moments - I swung her around in joy and cried into her fur in sorrow and anger many times. My heart is just aching for her, and it was so hard not to be part of it at all today (I live in BC and my parents live in Ontario). I'm actually going back in a week for other reasons, and it's going to be so hard to go home and not see her there.
Anyway, just wanted to share her story - she was much beloved.
We got Nikki when I was ten years old - our first and only family pet. She was a beautiful little grey kitten with a tiny bit of white on her chest - very regal looking, right to the end, with a long narrow face and huge green eyes. Even as a kitten she was shy and a bit stand-offish, but she bonded quickly with my family, and was a key part of my childhood. We have so many pictures of her being dressed up in different outfits, being carted around, led around on a harness, doing tricks (I taught her how to sit, lie down and roll over in one afternoon!). Even writing that is a bit heartbreaking - the last time I saw her at Christmas, she was a bit arthritic and achy, but she'd still sit and lay down for me on command.
I moved out on my own when I was 19, but was fairly close by and saw Nikki often. She always welcomed me home eagerly, and then would sleep on my bed for days after I left. She wasn't the most affectionate cat, but was loving in her own way, and was SO incredibly smart and persistent! She made her opinions known, and in her later years got a bit soft and started sleeping with my parents and becoming more of a lap cat.
After having some vomiting episodes and refusing to eat, my mom took her to the vet a few weeks ago where they determined that she had seriously reduced kidney function. The vet was hopeful, though, as she was still bright and alert and pretty much herself. He gave her a few medications that should have helped her to feel better and eat again. The last few weeks have been so painful for my parents - try as they might, they couldn't get her to eat much, and my dad (who pretends not to be as attached to her as he is) made her a liquid mixture of her dry food (she wouldn't touch canned food, the vet said that usually in the case of kidney failure there's something in the scent of it that they can't stand) and syringed it into her mouth.
She seemed to be getting slightly better over the weekend - my mom was alone with her and they had an amazing time, "dancing" together to Michael Buble and cuddling at night. However, last night she took a turn for the worse and had several violent vomiting episodes and seemed to throw a clot in her leg, which temporarily paralyzed it. Although she only had use of three legs, she still dragged herself up to sleep with my parents. Tearfully, they took her to the vet this morning, who gently recommended that it was her time. He sedated her to make her comfortable, and my parents had some time to cuddle her before the final injection.
We knew it was coming, and I suppose that of course it doesn't make it any easier, but I still feel so crushed. In the past few days, I felt worried for her, but generally I was of the sentiment that she had a long, wonderful life, and that's how it goes. However, I was totally shocked and so, so upset to hear that it actually happened today - I really broke down when my mom asked me if I wanted to have her buried with the little blanket I knit her when I was twelve.
It's just so much of my own history wrapped up in this cat - she was there through so many pivotal moments - I swung her around in joy and cried into her fur in sorrow and anger many times. My heart is just aching for her, and it was so hard not to be part of it at all today (I live in BC and my parents live in Ontario). I'm actually going back in a week for other reasons, and it's going to be so hard to go home and not see her there.
Anyway, just wanted to share her story - she was much beloved.
