Shadow
I lost my best friend Saturday. For some, a best friend is a person, for others it is a dog. For me, it was my cat, Shadow. As with children, I probably shouldn't claim a favorite. When I got Shadow nearly 13 1/2 years ago, I also got his sister, Smoke. The moment I saw the two of them, curled up around each other, I knew I was going to get one. But time spent alone at home can be lonely for cats too, so I adopted Shadow and Smoke together.
From the first, their personalities were very different. Where Smoke is independent, demanding attention when she wants it but rarely wanting to be held, Shadow was a big baby and all heart. It was rare for him to be anywhere other than at my feet. I could always count on him to greet me when I came home or follow me from room to room, gazing at me with his big, bright green eyes. We were both fortunate that his fur rarely matted and his long silky textures were a magnet for my touch. He had an easy going temperament, never complaining when I would pick him up and cradle him in my arms like a baby.
His sweet nature never wavered even when he ended up with three younger adopted siblings, Skye, Storm and Sunshine. To him, he had gained new playmates. Although his time as a kitten was long past, he knew just when and how to pounce on an unsuspecting sibling to get their attention. It was easy to predict when it would happen as he would sneak up behind them, eyes sparkling with mischief. But he also had his loving side, willing to groom anyone that came within reach. As the smallest and only other boy, Sunshine became a particular favorite for Shadow. Both were very sociable, affectionate and craved attention. Sunshine often turned to Shadow for nuzzling and Shadow never denied him.
Although Shadow had been ill for a couple of years, it never held him back. A hyper-thyroid condition was managed with medication and despite some litter box issues as a result, I never considered it an inconvenience or that he would be gone so soon or so quickly. Barely a couple of weeks went by between what appeared to be signs of age as he tried to jump on to a counter he's managed hundreds of times before and realizing that he was starting to spend more time resting in dark corners. But it was the weight loss that alarmed me most. My big, strong 15 pound baby was starting to appear bony and frail. Unable to convince him to eat hard food, I began to spoon feed him soft food and although it seemed to help, I couldn't convince him to eat enough to make a difference. Weak and listless, he would pull himself forward by his front paws, resting every foot or so, to get to his corner or lie beside me. On his last night we lay together on the floor, my hand on his body or looking in each others eyes for most of the night.
In the end, I think he was ready to go. Normally, pulling out the cat carrier would result in him trying to stay out of it and when he was inside, he would complain loudly all the way to the vet. This time, he slowly made his own way in to the carrier, painfully turning to face the front and waited for the door to shut him in. The loud cries in the car were replaced by soft mews.
Most trips would be accompanied by reassurances that we'd get him fixed up and he'd be home in no time. I couldn't make those promises on this trip. I hated to leave him there although I was advised the vet would want to observe him for a bit. I probably should have stayed anyway. I was scared enough by the realization that he had wasted away to a fragile 9 pounds in the last couple weeks. Apparently, there was little observation necessary as the vet called right away to tell me he was critical and needed to be on an IV immediately. Although I was hoping tests would reveal something that could be handled with medication, they proved inconclusive and I couldn't prolong his pain with days of hospitalization and x-rays only to discover he wouldn't recover anyway so I made the decision to give him the relief I think he desperately wanted.
I got to be with him in the end, cuddling him, singing the song I often sang to him, "Me and My Shadow", reminding him how much I loved him and reassuring him even as the life went out of his eyes. Although he was ready to move on, I don't think there is anything that could have made me ready. I'm still not.
Today was the first day I've left the apartment since he's been gone. While I still have Shadow's birth sister and three adopted siblings, who are not shy about seeking attention, it still feels empty without his presence. Each cat has a unique personality and I know I'll miss Shadow's for some time to come.
From the first, their personalities were very different. Where Smoke is independent, demanding attention when she wants it but rarely wanting to be held, Shadow was a big baby and all heart. It was rare for him to be anywhere other than at my feet. I could always count on him to greet me when I came home or follow me from room to room, gazing at me with his big, bright green eyes. We were both fortunate that his fur rarely matted and his long silky textures were a magnet for my touch. He had an easy going temperament, never complaining when I would pick him up and cradle him in my arms like a baby.
His sweet nature never wavered even when he ended up with three younger adopted siblings, Skye, Storm and Sunshine. To him, he had gained new playmates. Although his time as a kitten was long past, he knew just when and how to pounce on an unsuspecting sibling to get their attention. It was easy to predict when it would happen as he would sneak up behind them, eyes sparkling with mischief. But he also had his loving side, willing to groom anyone that came within reach. As the smallest and only other boy, Sunshine became a particular favorite for Shadow. Both were very sociable, affectionate and craved attention. Sunshine often turned to Shadow for nuzzling and Shadow never denied him.
Although Shadow had been ill for a couple of years, it never held him back. A hyper-thyroid condition was managed with medication and despite some litter box issues as a result, I never considered it an inconvenience or that he would be gone so soon or so quickly. Barely a couple of weeks went by between what appeared to be signs of age as he tried to jump on to a counter he's managed hundreds of times before and realizing that he was starting to spend more time resting in dark corners. But it was the weight loss that alarmed me most. My big, strong 15 pound baby was starting to appear bony and frail. Unable to convince him to eat hard food, I began to spoon feed him soft food and although it seemed to help, I couldn't convince him to eat enough to make a difference. Weak and listless, he would pull himself forward by his front paws, resting every foot or so, to get to his corner or lie beside me. On his last night we lay together on the floor, my hand on his body or looking in each others eyes for most of the night.
In the end, I think he was ready to go. Normally, pulling out the cat carrier would result in him trying to stay out of it and when he was inside, he would complain loudly all the way to the vet. This time, he slowly made his own way in to the carrier, painfully turning to face the front and waited for the door to shut him in. The loud cries in the car were replaced by soft mews.
Most trips would be accompanied by reassurances that we'd get him fixed up and he'd be home in no time. I couldn't make those promises on this trip. I hated to leave him there although I was advised the vet would want to observe him for a bit. I probably should have stayed anyway. I was scared enough by the realization that he had wasted away to a fragile 9 pounds in the last couple weeks. Apparently, there was little observation necessary as the vet called right away to tell me he was critical and needed to be on an IV immediately. Although I was hoping tests would reveal something that could be handled with medication, they proved inconclusive and I couldn't prolong his pain with days of hospitalization and x-rays only to discover he wouldn't recover anyway so I made the decision to give him the relief I think he desperately wanted.
I got to be with him in the end, cuddling him, singing the song I often sang to him, "Me and My Shadow", reminding him how much I loved him and reassuring him even as the life went out of his eyes. Although he was ready to move on, I don't think there is anything that could have made me ready. I'm still not.
Today was the first day I've left the apartment since he's been gone. While I still have Shadow's birth sister and three adopted siblings, who are not shy about seeking attention, it still feels empty without his presence. Each cat has a unique personality and I know I'll miss Shadow's for some time to come.