- Joined
- Jan 1, 2016
- Messages
- 494
- Purraise
- 267
In 2003, I lost my long time buddy, Hazel, who in her heyday was an intimidating, large Maine Coon with attitude to spare. After she passed, we had left over canned food, and in a neighborhood where people routinely (and still do) leave their pet cats to fend for themselves. We gave one of them left over cat food, and soon a friend of the cat showed up. He was tolerant of her and let her eat with him. She was quite pregnant. In August of 2003 she had her kittens and then brought them to the yard. There were 6 of them, some long hair gray tabby and some short haired spotted tabbies. The plan was to get the kittens and mama cat fixed and adopted (success).
One kitten, the smallest in the bunch was climbing our screen door, mewing and scared. Mama and the brood were no where to be seen. The kittens were about 6 weeks old. We brought her in, got her checked out by the vet and set about introducing her to the household.
She was so sweet, and so little, we named her Charlie. I thought that it would make her scrappier. It took a while for her to gain enough weight to get her vaccinations. We ended up keeping Charlie and two of her litter mates. The rest were adopted out including mama cat.
Charlie was always so sweet and adorable. She didn't like to be held, but she loved to be petted. She especially enjoyed pets from the tip of her nose to the end of her tail. She had a little spot in front of the TV with her favorite blanket. More than 1/2 of the TV shows included Charlie in front of the TV, chasing what caught her eye. We got used to the outline of Charlie at the bottom center of every program.
She was closer to my fella, than to me and she kept him company while he worked at his desk. She ate by dipping her paw into the food and bringing it to her mouth. She was so dainty about it. She had the most beautiful aqua eyes and the cutest knee pads on the back of her hind legs. She loved belly rubs and to pounce on my fingers and toes. When she was very young she'd hop up on the bed and wake me by licking my nose.
As she got older, she was more reclusive but still a darling. Never a big eater, she started refusing food and her little belly looked distended and hard. I took her to the vet thinking it was constipation. It was a tumor and her abdomen was full of fluid. It was pretty large and there wasn't really any way to remove it via surgery. The ultrasound showed that it was probably attached to her organs. I had some pain medication for her and brought her home for a few days. She would rally and diminish and hung on for a little longer than a week since her diagnosis. Saturday, yesterday, we made the decision that she probably couldn't wait much longer before the end would be less than peaceful.
I called the vet at 9 AM and had to wait until 12:15. The waiting was hard. I don't think cats anticipate their own death and try to hang on to life as long as they can, but then she started to drool. I don't think she could drink any water any longer. When we got to the vet, they took us to a room that was a little more homey. I took her out of the pet taxi and wiped her chin. She loved that and purred as I cleaned her up.
The sedative worked quickly and she laid down on my arm as I stroked her neck the way she loved while she was unconscious. The final end was quick, peaceful.
This is my 3rd cat that I've seen through to the end. And while it completely sucks to have to make that decision, I know it was the right one, especially seeing how she was just hours before we went. She would have been 13 next month. I really didn't think she'd be the next one. I hate the idea that instead of going to the vet to help her be healthy, get a check up, it was the time she wouldn't be coming home.
It feels like yesterday she was the little kitten who fought falling asleep. It feels weird not to open the downstairs window for her to sit and enjoy the fresh air. It feels weird that my Charlie who was quite acrobatic isn't up on top of the fridge looking down at us and chirping her delight. My sadness is that such a sweet girl had to end up with something painful and uncomfortable. And I was exhausted by every day since the diagnosis 12 days ago trying to decide if it was a good day or bad day for her and trying to simply be normal and do the same things we always do--giving her comfort in routine-while not waiting too long.
I thought it would kill me to hear her purring at the end. I thought it would torture me if I waited too long and she started to have trouble breathing--which would have been frightening for her and I didn't want that. We both found the right time.
I miss her little presence.
One kitten, the smallest in the bunch was climbing our screen door, mewing and scared. Mama and the brood were no where to be seen. The kittens were about 6 weeks old. We brought her in, got her checked out by the vet and set about introducing her to the household.
She was so sweet, and so little, we named her Charlie. I thought that it would make her scrappier. It took a while for her to gain enough weight to get her vaccinations. We ended up keeping Charlie and two of her litter mates. The rest were adopted out including mama cat.
Charlie was always so sweet and adorable. She didn't like to be held, but she loved to be petted. She especially enjoyed pets from the tip of her nose to the end of her tail. She had a little spot in front of the TV with her favorite blanket. More than 1/2 of the TV shows included Charlie in front of the TV, chasing what caught her eye. We got used to the outline of Charlie at the bottom center of every program.
She was closer to my fella, than to me and she kept him company while he worked at his desk. She ate by dipping her paw into the food and bringing it to her mouth. She was so dainty about it. She had the most beautiful aqua eyes and the cutest knee pads on the back of her hind legs. She loved belly rubs and to pounce on my fingers and toes. When she was very young she'd hop up on the bed and wake me by licking my nose.
As she got older, she was more reclusive but still a darling. Never a big eater, she started refusing food and her little belly looked distended and hard. I took her to the vet thinking it was constipation. It was a tumor and her abdomen was full of fluid. It was pretty large and there wasn't really any way to remove it via surgery. The ultrasound showed that it was probably attached to her organs. I had some pain medication for her and brought her home for a few days. She would rally and diminish and hung on for a little longer than a week since her diagnosis. Saturday, yesterday, we made the decision that she probably couldn't wait much longer before the end would be less than peaceful.
I called the vet at 9 AM and had to wait until 12:15. The waiting was hard. I don't think cats anticipate their own death and try to hang on to life as long as they can, but then she started to drool. I don't think she could drink any water any longer. When we got to the vet, they took us to a room that was a little more homey. I took her out of the pet taxi and wiped her chin. She loved that and purred as I cleaned her up.
The sedative worked quickly and she laid down on my arm as I stroked her neck the way she loved while she was unconscious. The final end was quick, peaceful.
This is my 3rd cat that I've seen through to the end. And while it completely sucks to have to make that decision, I know it was the right one, especially seeing how she was just hours before we went. She would have been 13 next month. I really didn't think she'd be the next one. I hate the idea that instead of going to the vet to help her be healthy, get a check up, it was the time she wouldn't be coming home.
It feels like yesterday she was the little kitten who fought falling asleep. It feels weird not to open the downstairs window for her to sit and enjoy the fresh air. It feels weird that my Charlie who was quite acrobatic isn't up on top of the fridge looking down at us and chirping her delight. My sadness is that such a sweet girl had to end up with something painful and uncomfortable. And I was exhausted by every day since the diagnosis 12 days ago trying to decide if it was a good day or bad day for her and trying to simply be normal and do the same things we always do--giving her comfort in routine-while not waiting too long.
I thought it would kill me to hear her purring at the end. I thought it would torture me if I waited too long and she started to have trouble breathing--which would have been frightening for her and I didn't want that. We both found the right time.
I miss her little presence.
