It was a hot, New Mexico afternoon in October 1999. I walked into PetSmart with my husband to buy crickets for his bearded dragon to eat. As soon as we walked in, there was a cat adoption event happening in the front of the store. They had a few big cages with several kitties running around in each one. In the last cage I walked past, there was a little black kitten curled up on the back corner, looking at all the other kittens like they were just annoying the bejesus out of him. He had a surly, scowling look on his face. Not typical for a "cute" little kitten. I walked over to the cage, he looked up and made eye contact with me. I was floored. He was the most beautiful cat I had ever seen. The brightest green eyes, pure black fur...Anyway, he stood up, stretched, came up to the front of the cage, reached up and grabbed my finger that I was poking through the bars. It was over. This cat was mine. I asked the woman running the thing if I could hold him. She said she didn't recommend it because several people had tried to hold him and they all left with scratches and he had gotten away once already. She said they were having problems adopting him out because of his attitude and that he needed to be socialized more. I asked her "Please. I really need to hold this cat. It's ok if he scratches me and I won't let him get away I promise." So, with one more warning about his temperament, she agreed. She opened the top of the cage, the kitten reached up for me, I picked him up and he curled up on my chest, tucked his head in my neck, & started purring. I realized that this cat wasn't mine. I was his.
From that second on, my whole life was different. It was all about him. I had a new shadow that went everywhere I did. And that shadow talked. A lot. We couldn't decide on a name for him for a week or so, so he was just "Cat." But I would notice all these clumsy things he'd do. He never landed any jumps like a normal cat. He always hit head first into whatever he jumped towards. One day, he was walking across the living room floor and just stopped, crashed over on his side, and closed his eyes. He evidently had decided that wherever he was headed was too far, so where he was was a good place to nap. He did this all time. That's why his name was Krash. We changed the C to K because it made him seem more bad ass. And what a bad ass he was. Mean as all get out. To his toy micers. Every vet he ever saw was terrified of him. He was a huge cat. At his largest, he was 23 lbs and stood almost knee high. He knew his size, and he used it to keep doctors on their toes. Truth is, he wouldn't have ever hurt anyone. Everyone that met him fell in love with him, even people that aren't cat people.
He lived for many years with no health problems, no behavior problems...I always heard horror stories of other people's cats that would pee & scratch & tear things up. Krash never did any of that. He was so well behaved. I never trained him to walk on a harness - He just did it. I never trained him to do ANYTHING. He just did stuff. He fit into my life like he had been there since the beginning. If you could deal with the constant talking (I miss that so much), he was the most low maintenance cat ever. And I knew how lucky I was to have that.
In September 2013, he was diagnosed with small cell lymphoma. They told me his chances were good for remission. We started chemo, but it didn't make enough of a difference to be worth it. The stress of medicating him was overwhelming for him, my husband and myself. I owed him so much, I couldn't bear the thought of him being miserable during what might be his last days. Plus, the chemo had caused severe anemia. So we decided to stop treatments except for prednisolone which was a liquid and was easy to give him. He made it about another month. In the end, the anemia had made him sicker than the cancer. He was so weak, he couldn't stand up on his own. On Friday 11/8, he had some kind of respiratory distress and he couldn't breathe. So we rushed him to the Vet to be put down. I couldn't let him suffer at all. And this was him at the threshold of suffering.
He was surrounded by people that loved him, that he loved. I spent the last hour just holding him, looking into his eyes. I held him as they did the final injection and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. My face was the last thing he ever saw. The last thing he ever heard was my voice telling him I love him. And I do. I always will. He was my baby, my soul mate, my best friend, the love of my life. He saved me from myself 14 years ago. And I saved him from people who didn't understand him.
I have 2 new cats now. I love them, but they'll never replace him. We only get one pet like Krash. I'm so grateful he picked me. I'm gonna miss him every day forever.
From that second on, my whole life was different. It was all about him. I had a new shadow that went everywhere I did. And that shadow talked. A lot. We couldn't decide on a name for him for a week or so, so he was just "Cat." But I would notice all these clumsy things he'd do. He never landed any jumps like a normal cat. He always hit head first into whatever he jumped towards. One day, he was walking across the living room floor and just stopped, crashed over on his side, and closed his eyes. He evidently had decided that wherever he was headed was too far, so where he was was a good place to nap. He did this all time. That's why his name was Krash. We changed the C to K because it made him seem more bad ass. And what a bad ass he was. Mean as all get out. To his toy micers. Every vet he ever saw was terrified of him. He was a huge cat. At his largest, he was 23 lbs and stood almost knee high. He knew his size, and he used it to keep doctors on their toes. Truth is, he wouldn't have ever hurt anyone. Everyone that met him fell in love with him, even people that aren't cat people.
He lived for many years with no health problems, no behavior problems...I always heard horror stories of other people's cats that would pee & scratch & tear things up. Krash never did any of that. He was so well behaved. I never trained him to walk on a harness - He just did it. I never trained him to do ANYTHING. He just did stuff. He fit into my life like he had been there since the beginning. If you could deal with the constant talking (I miss that so much), he was the most low maintenance cat ever. And I knew how lucky I was to have that.
In September 2013, he was diagnosed with small cell lymphoma. They told me his chances were good for remission. We started chemo, but it didn't make enough of a difference to be worth it. The stress of medicating him was overwhelming for him, my husband and myself. I owed him so much, I couldn't bear the thought of him being miserable during what might be his last days. Plus, the chemo had caused severe anemia. So we decided to stop treatments except for prednisolone which was a liquid and was easy to give him. He made it about another month. In the end, the anemia had made him sicker than the cancer. He was so weak, he couldn't stand up on his own. On Friday 11/8, he had some kind of respiratory distress and he couldn't breathe. So we rushed him to the Vet to be put down. I couldn't let him suffer at all. And this was him at the threshold of suffering.
He was surrounded by people that loved him, that he loved. I spent the last hour just holding him, looking into his eyes. I held him as they did the final injection and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. My face was the last thing he ever saw. The last thing he ever heard was my voice telling him I love him. And I do. I always will. He was my baby, my soul mate, my best friend, the love of my life. He saved me from myself 14 years ago. And I saved him from people who didn't understand him.
I have 2 new cats now. I love them, but they'll never replace him. We only get one pet like Krash. I'm so grateful he picked me. I'm gonna miss him every day forever.