My little deaf kitty, Peanut Butterum, left us last night. The vet was kind enough to wait after hours for us, and we let her go sitting in the yard behind the clinic instead of inside where all the scary smells are.
Peanut was diagnosed with cancer just about 2 months ago. It was advanced and all along her spine. Being deaf, she had gotten very good at hiding being at any kind of disadvantage or pain. It wasn't until she had a drastic weight loss that we even knew that anything was wrong, and even then she was still lively and always ready for a meal. The vet told me that treatment would hold very little advantage at that stage, and would likely do nothing more for her than make her last months miserable. So for the last few weeks, she's gotten to eat way too much tuna, sit outside in the enclosure after the rain and roll in the wet grass and drink out of mud puddles and chase crickets.
But yesterday, she didn't touch any of her food, not even treats, and walking 20 or so feet to her water bowl was almost too much of a journey, having to stop and rest along the way. There wasn't any doubt that it was time for her to go. She was a very, very special little girl, and taught all of us so much about making do with what you have. She even learned that she could "hear" me by pressing her head against my cheek while I was talking to her, and would sit entire evenings that way. I'm going to miss my little Peanut so much.
Peanut was diagnosed with cancer just about 2 months ago. It was advanced and all along her spine. Being deaf, she had gotten very good at hiding being at any kind of disadvantage or pain. It wasn't until she had a drastic weight loss that we even knew that anything was wrong, and even then she was still lively and always ready for a meal. The vet told me that treatment would hold very little advantage at that stage, and would likely do nothing more for her than make her last months miserable. So for the last few weeks, she's gotten to eat way too much tuna, sit outside in the enclosure after the rain and roll in the wet grass and drink out of mud puddles and chase crickets.
But yesterday, she didn't touch any of her food, not even treats, and walking 20 or so feet to her water bowl was almost too much of a journey, having to stop and rest along the way. There wasn't any doubt that it was time for her to go. She was a very, very special little girl, and taught all of us so much about making do with what you have. She even learned that she could "hear" me by pressing her head against my cheek while I was talking to her, and would sit entire evenings that way. I'm going to miss my little Peanut so much.
and :rub: on their way to you and the Jellicles, Mike.
Peanut Buterum 
