I had Tiny put to sleep Tuesday morning, March 10th, 2015, at about 9 AM. She was just over 16 years old, and I've had her since she was eight weeks old. She looked like a little Siamese kitten with faint stripes when I adopted her from the local shelter. By the time she was one year old, the stripes had darkened to the point that she looked like a regular black tabby. Two things always gave away her Siamese heritage: her blue eyes, and her talkativeness. She would always talk when being petted, when she walked in the room, etc. When I would take her to the vet, they could usually hear her coming from the parking lot. She also liked chewing on papers. If I left some lying on the floor or a table she could access, I would come back to find the corners chewed off and shredded. She somehow had a sixth sense about what was on the papers. She would ignore "decoy" piles of papers in favor of things like birth certificates or important financial documents.
Tiny was pretty healthy for most of her life. She had an eye infection as a kitten, and the tear duct in her left eye was damaged. That eye ran for the rest of her life, but never caused any real problems. Her biggest thing was her weight, and she got very big, very quickly. I tried light cat food, but it only seemed to slow things down a bit. When one of my oldest boys got a UTI and had to be switched over to urinary health food, it became even harder. By the time she was 10, she weighed over 18 pounds, and I decided that it was time for a change. I decided that enough was enough, and after a lot of effort, I got her to shed almost all of the excess weight. You can see the details in the Tiny Weight Loss thread linked in my signature.
2013 nearly did her in. She had a lot of medical problems including the onset of hyperthyroid, two surgeries, and recurring constipation problems. I even got so far as calling my in-home vet and making an appointment to have her put to sleep. This almost killed me because she had been through two months of surgeries, enemas, e-collars, and constant meds. For my part, I had spent thousands of dollars, and in the end it looked like it was going to be for nothing. Somehow, she turned the corner just in time and I was able to cancel that appointment. I never did get the hyperthyroid completely managed. Whenever I would get her down into the "normal" range, she would become lethargic and constipated. After consulting with my vet, I decided that I would just keep her at a low dose. This worked, and Tiny was her normal talkative self all through 2014 and into 2015. For three weeks in February, we had ice and snow storms here. During that time, I was able to work from home several days. I would work in the den with the fireplace burning, and Tiny would sprawl out in front of it and enjoy the heat. She also spent a lot of time in my lap, meowing to demand more petting. Obviously, this wasn't good for the quality of my at-home work, but I'm so thankful that we had those storms because it meant that I had a lot of good quality time with Tiny and my other cats.
Tiny did well until this past week, when she started eating less and just lying around. By Friday, she wouldn't even eat chicken (her favorite) when I offered it to her. She would normally come up to me in the kitchen and start begging while it was still frozen! I took her to the emergency clinic Friday night. They didn't find anything initially, but they kept her overnight to administer some fluids. On Saturday, they discovered a mass in the intestines and suspected cancer. Saturday night I went in to visit Tiny. She seemed to be doing OK. When they brought her out, I could hear her coming from all the way in the back because she was talking up a storm. I loved on her a few minutes until she got restless. I left her there and went home because they wanted to run some more tests. Sunday morning they confirmed the lymphoma. They told me Tiny was doing better, and I could come by at any point and take her home and see the regular vet Monday. By the time I had gotten to the vet, and spent 15 minutes going over the laundry list of medications they were sending home with her, things had changed. She had grown weaker and was walking unsteadily. The vet described it as a neurological deficit. She told me that they could readmit her and try to get more fluids in and run more tests, but that there was no guarantee it would be successful. I declined. My baby had been through enough, and I didn't want her last couple of days to be spent in a cage with strangers.
I knew she was in bad shape when they brought her out. My talkative Siamese kitty didn't make a peep as they carried her into the exam room. She laid on her side, and had trouble lifting her head. She was so quiet on the way home that I thought she may have passed before I even reached the house, but she had just fallen asleep in the cage. I put her in a heated bed in my front bedroom. She seemed to be comfortable, but when I petted her, she wasn't able to purr properly and only meowed weakly. It sounded like she was trying, but just wasn't able. I actually thought it was likely she would pass during the night. I may have even hoped for it, because I didn't want to have to make the difficult decision. She didn't oblige though. I guess she still had some fight in her. She actually drank some water, and peed a couple of times during the night. I thought this was a good sign at first, but the neurological problem was getting worse. When she tried to walk around, her head was drooped completely down, and she would walk right into walls. I called my in-home vet and told her it was time. She asked if Tiny appeared to be in pain, and I said no, so she would come out the next (Tuesday) morning and put her to sleep. Monday night was rough. I tried to give Tiny some food (which she refused). I couldn't help but thinking this was probably her last night on Earth. I slept poorly, and the little sleep I did get was restless.
When I went to check on Tiny Tuesday morning, she lifted her head, and at first I thought she might be improving. Her head drooped quickly though, and I discovered that she had lost control of her bowels. I cleaned her up and replaced towels a couple of times, but it was continuous, and I knew it was time. I sent the vet something to the effect of "COME NOW!" and she was over in 10 minutes. She's been practicing for about 35 years, and she was so good with Tiny. We put Tiny up on the bed. I sat on the edge petting Tiny while the vet sat on the bed and worked on her. I had to bring in a box of tissues and lay them on the bed because we were both crying so much. I loved on Tiny until she was gone. I'm just happy she was able to come to her end at home lying on her favorite bed instead of some cold exam table in a strange place. We hugged for a while after it was all over, and she said a little prayer. She offered to take care of Tiny, but I declined. I'm going to take her over to my parents' and bury her next to my sweet Tre and their beloved Cocker Spaniel the next chance I get.
For now, I'll just say: Good bye, Tiny. You were a sweet and wonderful cat. At 16, you still acted like an overgrown kitten, and I'll miss your antics. The life of a cat may not make much difference to the world, but you made a huge difference to me. You made me laugh, you comforted me with your purrs and affection, and you made the house much more pleasant and lively. I'll miss you, baby.
Tiny at 3 months. I borrowed one of those 'new' digital cameras from work to take this.
This is Tiny at two years old. She had darkened to the point she looked like a "regular" tabby (as if there's such a thing!), but those baby blues always gave away her heritage.
This is the last photo I have of Tiny from 2/17, while I was home during the ice storms. Promise always thought Tiny made a good pillow. I saw the two of them sprawled out by the fireplace, and thought it was so sweet.
Tiny was pretty healthy for most of her life. She had an eye infection as a kitten, and the tear duct in her left eye was damaged. That eye ran for the rest of her life, but never caused any real problems. Her biggest thing was her weight, and she got very big, very quickly. I tried light cat food, but it only seemed to slow things down a bit. When one of my oldest boys got a UTI and had to be switched over to urinary health food, it became even harder. By the time she was 10, she weighed over 18 pounds, and I decided that it was time for a change. I decided that enough was enough, and after a lot of effort, I got her to shed almost all of the excess weight. You can see the details in the Tiny Weight Loss thread linked in my signature.
2013 nearly did her in. She had a lot of medical problems including the onset of hyperthyroid, two surgeries, and recurring constipation problems. I even got so far as calling my in-home vet and making an appointment to have her put to sleep. This almost killed me because she had been through two months of surgeries, enemas, e-collars, and constant meds. For my part, I had spent thousands of dollars, and in the end it looked like it was going to be for nothing. Somehow, she turned the corner just in time and I was able to cancel that appointment. I never did get the hyperthyroid completely managed. Whenever I would get her down into the "normal" range, she would become lethargic and constipated. After consulting with my vet, I decided that I would just keep her at a low dose. This worked, and Tiny was her normal talkative self all through 2014 and into 2015. For three weeks in February, we had ice and snow storms here. During that time, I was able to work from home several days. I would work in the den with the fireplace burning, and Tiny would sprawl out in front of it and enjoy the heat. She also spent a lot of time in my lap, meowing to demand more petting. Obviously, this wasn't good for the quality of my at-home work, but I'm so thankful that we had those storms because it meant that I had a lot of good quality time with Tiny and my other cats.
Tiny did well until this past week, when she started eating less and just lying around. By Friday, she wouldn't even eat chicken (her favorite) when I offered it to her. She would normally come up to me in the kitchen and start begging while it was still frozen! I took her to the emergency clinic Friday night. They didn't find anything initially, but they kept her overnight to administer some fluids. On Saturday, they discovered a mass in the intestines and suspected cancer. Saturday night I went in to visit Tiny. She seemed to be doing OK. When they brought her out, I could hear her coming from all the way in the back because she was talking up a storm. I loved on her a few minutes until she got restless. I left her there and went home because they wanted to run some more tests. Sunday morning they confirmed the lymphoma. They told me Tiny was doing better, and I could come by at any point and take her home and see the regular vet Monday. By the time I had gotten to the vet, and spent 15 minutes going over the laundry list of medications they were sending home with her, things had changed. She had grown weaker and was walking unsteadily. The vet described it as a neurological deficit. She told me that they could readmit her and try to get more fluids in and run more tests, but that there was no guarantee it would be successful. I declined. My baby had been through enough, and I didn't want her last couple of days to be spent in a cage with strangers.
I knew she was in bad shape when they brought her out. My talkative Siamese kitty didn't make a peep as they carried her into the exam room. She laid on her side, and had trouble lifting her head. She was so quiet on the way home that I thought she may have passed before I even reached the house, but she had just fallen asleep in the cage. I put her in a heated bed in my front bedroom. She seemed to be comfortable, but when I petted her, she wasn't able to purr properly and only meowed weakly. It sounded like she was trying, but just wasn't able. I actually thought it was likely she would pass during the night. I may have even hoped for it, because I didn't want to have to make the difficult decision. She didn't oblige though. I guess she still had some fight in her. She actually drank some water, and peed a couple of times during the night. I thought this was a good sign at first, but the neurological problem was getting worse. When she tried to walk around, her head was drooped completely down, and she would walk right into walls. I called my in-home vet and told her it was time. She asked if Tiny appeared to be in pain, and I said no, so she would come out the next (Tuesday) morning and put her to sleep. Monday night was rough. I tried to give Tiny some food (which she refused). I couldn't help but thinking this was probably her last night on Earth. I slept poorly, and the little sleep I did get was restless.
When I went to check on Tiny Tuesday morning, she lifted her head, and at first I thought she might be improving. Her head drooped quickly though, and I discovered that she had lost control of her bowels. I cleaned her up and replaced towels a couple of times, but it was continuous, and I knew it was time. I sent the vet something to the effect of "COME NOW!" and she was over in 10 minutes. She's been practicing for about 35 years, and she was so good with Tiny. We put Tiny up on the bed. I sat on the edge petting Tiny while the vet sat on the bed and worked on her. I had to bring in a box of tissues and lay them on the bed because we were both crying so much. I loved on Tiny until she was gone. I'm just happy she was able to come to her end at home lying on her favorite bed instead of some cold exam table in a strange place. We hugged for a while after it was all over, and she said a little prayer. She offered to take care of Tiny, but I declined. I'm going to take her over to my parents' and bury her next to my sweet Tre and their beloved Cocker Spaniel the next chance I get.
For now, I'll just say: Good bye, Tiny. You were a sweet and wonderful cat. At 16, you still acted like an overgrown kitten, and I'll miss your antics. The life of a cat may not make much difference to the world, but you made a huge difference to me. You made me laugh, you comforted me with your purrs and affection, and you made the house much more pleasant and lively. I'll miss you, baby.
Tiny at 3 months. I borrowed one of those 'new' digital cameras from work to take this.
This is Tiny at two years old. She had darkened to the point she looked like a "regular" tabby (as if there's such a thing!), but those baby blues always gave away her heritage.
This is the last photo I have of Tiny from 2/17, while I was home during the ice storms. Promise always thought Tiny made a good pillow. I saw the two of them sprawled out by the fireplace, and thought it was so sweet.