Goodbye my kitty - Charlie
Her name was officially Charlene, but I called her "Charlie" after the little girl in Firestarter. My sister and her husband found her at one of those adoption days at Petco. Her little meow is what attracted them, and when I came home that day, they had already set her up in my apartment.
She never fully grew to like her housemate, Jack, but she was my constant shadow. If I was in the kitchen cooking, she would be sitting watching me. If I was doing laundry, she was on top of the dryer. If I was at the computer, she was on the back of my chair. At night, she slept at my feet, and if I fell asleep on the couch, she was on top, watching over me.
There were so many rituals and habits she/we knew and loved. From the onset she began the morning shower ritual, which for the last 10 years including this morning, was for her to sit atop the toilet waiting patiently while I bathed, and then was to be rewarded with a nice long brushing. When I would make my morning bowl of cereal, she would stare me down until I rewarded her with the last bits of milk. She grew to love and would recognize the word "bonito" - dried shaved tuna flakes and would go nuts for catnip. Every day when I come home she'd wait by the door to be picked up and properly hello'd. At my old place she had the worst separation anxiety and would attack the doorknob everytime I shut the door behind me. And she hated the sound of keys and would physically place herself between the door and me to prevent me from leaving.
She was a great comfort to me, always knowing when I was sad. She hated loud noises such as yelling and would meow anxiously. She learned to let me cut her claws every few weeks. When she was asleep having deep kitty dreams and was suddenly awakened she would meow for me to comfort her, a sweet funny rrrrowwwr sound. The cutest thing was watching her look outside at birds and squirrels, she would bark and chirp at them.
She had always been healthy, having just been worked up and vaccinated a few years ago, and aside from the occasional regurgitation, was totally normal.
Last night was just like always. I came home with Long John Silver's, and she and I split a piece of fish. I stuck the leftovers in the fridge and passed out on the futon. When I woke up a few hours later she was on top of the back of the couch, and I called for her to come to bed. I fell asleep with her at my feet as usual, after we played with some string and her cat scratcher. When I woke up it was business as usual. I watched the news, she was licking plastic by the bed. We went, showered, I brushed her. She jumped off when she was finished, and I went to put some clothes on.
I went to the kitchen and called her for food but she was just laying there. She tried to get up and walk but seemed lame. Then she really began to panic, instead of just one leg giving out she seemed to lose function of both her legs, and began a horrible process of dragging herself around with her front paws. I considered for the briefest of seconds going to work and hoping it would work itself out, but when she began to pant heavily I knew this would be a vet trip.
My vet didnt' open up for another hour, so I simply observed her. She made a mad scramble to the litter box and couldn't even stand to go to the bathroom, she just went sideways. Poor kitty, even in her pain she didn't want to make a mess. Then she clawed her way to the bathroom, where she began to attack the water knobs behind the toilet. She was aggravated and in severe stress. I was already on the phone at this point with the emergency vet, having decided this couldn't wait for the regular vet. I got her there by 7 a.m. this morning, her symptoms starting at about 6 a.m. The vets rush her back, I fill out forms and wait, listening to her yowl. Finally the vet comes in and tells me that she has a Saddle Thrombus, an untreatable blood clot most likely from an undiagnosed heart condition. The prognosis was not good, she said, and recommended euthanasia as the most humane thing saying that she would most likely never regain full function of her legs and would be in extreme pain. I've learned since then that 1/3 of cats die from this, 1/3 are euthanised, and 1/3 only live for one more year if they survive it, even with treatment.
I sign the paperwork consenting for them to put her down, and they immediately discussed memorial options. I chose private cremation, and will be getting her ashes back in a box. They sedated her and brought her to me. I petted her and told her how sorry I was. She just lay there and fought the sedation, squirming, trying to stand upright. The vet came in and gave her a stronger painkiller, then gave her the two injections that would put her to sleep. I stayed with her, and when the vet confirmed that her heart had stopped, I stayed with her for another half hour, telling her goodbye and how sorry I was. I don't know if she recognized me or knew me during those last few minutes, but I'm happy her pain is over. Mine is just starting.
When she began to get cold, I left them with her, taking my empty cat carrier home. I had been bawling since the vet came in the office, and going home wasn't any easier. I called in sick, I called my mom, my sister who gave her to me, my girlfriend who lived with us both. I've been researching the disease all day and reading the stories other pet parents have gone through was just like reliving it all over again. I also went and got every picture I had -- I wish I had taken more.
I wish I had spent more time with her and told her how much I loved her. She wouldn't have understood the words, but she would have understood the tone. Life without her is going to be very lonely.
She never fully grew to like her housemate, Jack, but she was my constant shadow. If I was in the kitchen cooking, she would be sitting watching me. If I was doing laundry, she was on top of the dryer. If I was at the computer, she was on the back of my chair. At night, she slept at my feet, and if I fell asleep on the couch, she was on top, watching over me.
There were so many rituals and habits she/we knew and loved. From the onset she began the morning shower ritual, which for the last 10 years including this morning, was for her to sit atop the toilet waiting patiently while I bathed, and then was to be rewarded with a nice long brushing. When I would make my morning bowl of cereal, she would stare me down until I rewarded her with the last bits of milk. She grew to love and would recognize the word "bonito" - dried shaved tuna flakes and would go nuts for catnip. Every day when I come home she'd wait by the door to be picked up and properly hello'd. At my old place she had the worst separation anxiety and would attack the doorknob everytime I shut the door behind me. And she hated the sound of keys and would physically place herself between the door and me to prevent me from leaving.
She was a great comfort to me, always knowing when I was sad. She hated loud noises such as yelling and would meow anxiously. She learned to let me cut her claws every few weeks. When she was asleep having deep kitty dreams and was suddenly awakened she would meow for me to comfort her, a sweet funny rrrrowwwr sound. The cutest thing was watching her look outside at birds and squirrels, she would bark and chirp at them.
She had always been healthy, having just been worked up and vaccinated a few years ago, and aside from the occasional regurgitation, was totally normal.
Last night was just like always. I came home with Long John Silver's, and she and I split a piece of fish. I stuck the leftovers in the fridge and passed out on the futon. When I woke up a few hours later she was on top of the back of the couch, and I called for her to come to bed. I fell asleep with her at my feet as usual, after we played with some string and her cat scratcher. When I woke up it was business as usual. I watched the news, she was licking plastic by the bed. We went, showered, I brushed her. She jumped off when she was finished, and I went to put some clothes on.
I went to the kitchen and called her for food but she was just laying there. She tried to get up and walk but seemed lame. Then she really began to panic, instead of just one leg giving out she seemed to lose function of both her legs, and began a horrible process of dragging herself around with her front paws. I considered for the briefest of seconds going to work and hoping it would work itself out, but when she began to pant heavily I knew this would be a vet trip.
My vet didnt' open up for another hour, so I simply observed her. She made a mad scramble to the litter box and couldn't even stand to go to the bathroom, she just went sideways. Poor kitty, even in her pain she didn't want to make a mess. Then she clawed her way to the bathroom, where she began to attack the water knobs behind the toilet. She was aggravated and in severe stress. I was already on the phone at this point with the emergency vet, having decided this couldn't wait for the regular vet. I got her there by 7 a.m. this morning, her symptoms starting at about 6 a.m. The vets rush her back, I fill out forms and wait, listening to her yowl. Finally the vet comes in and tells me that she has a Saddle Thrombus, an untreatable blood clot most likely from an undiagnosed heart condition. The prognosis was not good, she said, and recommended euthanasia as the most humane thing saying that she would most likely never regain full function of her legs and would be in extreme pain. I've learned since then that 1/3 of cats die from this, 1/3 are euthanised, and 1/3 only live for one more year if they survive it, even with treatment.
I sign the paperwork consenting for them to put her down, and they immediately discussed memorial options. I chose private cremation, and will be getting her ashes back in a box. They sedated her and brought her to me. I petted her and told her how sorry I was. She just lay there and fought the sedation, squirming, trying to stand upright. The vet came in and gave her a stronger painkiller, then gave her the two injections that would put her to sleep. I stayed with her, and when the vet confirmed that her heart had stopped, I stayed with her for another half hour, telling her goodbye and how sorry I was. I don't know if she recognized me or knew me during those last few minutes, but I'm happy her pain is over. Mine is just starting.
When she began to get cold, I left them with her, taking my empty cat carrier home. I had been bawling since the vet came in the office, and going home wasn't any easier. I called in sick, I called my mom, my sister who gave her to me, my girlfriend who lived with us both. I've been researching the disease all day and reading the stories other pet parents have gone through was just like reliving it all over again. I also went and got every picture I had -- I wish I had taken more.
I wish I had spent more time with her and told her how much I loved her. She wouldn't have understood the words, but she would have understood the tone. Life without her is going to be very lonely.