And another one leaves me
Sadly all but one of the cats in this icon is gone. Harley, Binx, Bianca, Frankie, Morgan, Kina, probably Pussyfoot (he was a feral who got out one day and never returned) and now Pewter. Pewter is the one after Bianca, the Siamese. He was a beautiful grey cat who lived to the ripe old age of 17 and a half.
Pewter began life in the yard of my dad's neighbor. Said neighbor is a real piece of work and she demanded that I move a mother cat and her newborns because they were beneath the hose spigot in her yard and she wanted to wash her car. I went to look and noticed that one kitten was separate from the rest. Mom had already gotten the hint and was moving her litter but she left that one kitten behind. I moved him to where she was but again she moved the litter with the exception of him. I knew he would die if I didn't try to care for him so I took him and rushed him to an emergency vet since it was Sunday and my vet was closed. That vet told me not to bother to feed him because his head was misshapen so he had little chance of survival. I didn't listen to him because I knew he had been born that day and guessed that his misshapen head was due to the birth. Instead, I took him home, combed the fly eggs out of his fur, bought formula and a nursing bottle and got him to eat every couple of hours. Liam and I went to bed and I expected to find a dead kitten in the morning. Instead, around 5:30 in the morning I was woken up by the meowing of a very hungry kitten. We named him Pewter for his beatiful grey fur.
I was still working full time back then so I taught my mom how to bottle feed him and clean his bottom so he would use the bathroom. Each morning before work, I would drop a shoe box with a kitten inside off to my mom who would watch over him and feed him until I got home. We tag-teamed his care for several weeks until he could be weaned. When Pewter was around 4 months old, Liam and I rescued Frankie (the brown striped cat right after Pewter's picture), who turned out to be around the same age. The two cats were inseparable and we referred to them as our "galloping idiots". Frankie succumbed to cancer a few years ago but Pewter carried on.
Although he was my "son" and was always affectionate to me, he also chose Brigid as his person. If I ever needed to find Pewter, all I needed to do was look on Bree's bed. Bree was 2 when he came into our house and they have grown up together.
About 2 weeks ago, Pewter had a very bad seizure, his first. He had been slowing down and spending more time on the living room chair but had been doing fine otherwise. I wondered then if it was time but he bounced back and was eating, drinking and using the pan, albeit at a slower pace. Today he had an even more violent seizure, during which he involuntarily grabbed my hand and bit me in several places. Poor guy didn't know what he was doing. About an hour later, he was still walking in circles. I feared he would have a seizure in the middle of the night and end up suffering and I just couldn't allow that. Instead, I called Bree and let her know what was happening then talked to Howard a little to make sure I was doing the right thing at the right time. We all came to the consensus that helping him cross over now was better than waiting for the next thing to happen.
So, Pewter crossed over the Rainbow Bridge at 5:20 pm today, with help from Dr. Jack, one of my very wonderful vets. His cremains are being kept by my daughter. Normally, I bury my animals but she asked and there was no reason to say no. I am sure that as he crossed over to the other side, that asshole, Frankie, sneak attacked him as was his habit, and they chased each other happily once again.
Goodbye my Notch (a notch in his ear given to him by the Alpha at the time, Harley), my sweet Roly Poly Pewhead, my son. I miss you already. Safe journey. Oh and when you do see Frankie? Kick his ass, Old Man.
Pewter began life in the yard of my dad's neighbor. Said neighbor is a real piece of work and she demanded that I move a mother cat and her newborns because they were beneath the hose spigot in her yard and she wanted to wash her car. I went to look and noticed that one kitten was separate from the rest. Mom had already gotten the hint and was moving her litter but she left that one kitten behind. I moved him to where she was but again she moved the litter with the exception of him. I knew he would die if I didn't try to care for him so I took him and rushed him to an emergency vet since it was Sunday and my vet was closed. That vet told me not to bother to feed him because his head was misshapen so he had little chance of survival. I didn't listen to him because I knew he had been born that day and guessed that his misshapen head was due to the birth. Instead, I took him home, combed the fly eggs out of his fur, bought formula and a nursing bottle and got him to eat every couple of hours. Liam and I went to bed and I expected to find a dead kitten in the morning. Instead, around 5:30 in the morning I was woken up by the meowing of a very hungry kitten. We named him Pewter for his beatiful grey fur.
I was still working full time back then so I taught my mom how to bottle feed him and clean his bottom so he would use the bathroom. Each morning before work, I would drop a shoe box with a kitten inside off to my mom who would watch over him and feed him until I got home. We tag-teamed his care for several weeks until he could be weaned. When Pewter was around 4 months old, Liam and I rescued Frankie (the brown striped cat right after Pewter's picture), who turned out to be around the same age. The two cats were inseparable and we referred to them as our "galloping idiots". Frankie succumbed to cancer a few years ago but Pewter carried on.
Although he was my "son" and was always affectionate to me, he also chose Brigid as his person. If I ever needed to find Pewter, all I needed to do was look on Bree's bed. Bree was 2 when he came into our house and they have grown up together.
About 2 weeks ago, Pewter had a very bad seizure, his first. He had been slowing down and spending more time on the living room chair but had been doing fine otherwise. I wondered then if it was time but he bounced back and was eating, drinking and using the pan, albeit at a slower pace. Today he had an even more violent seizure, during which he involuntarily grabbed my hand and bit me in several places. Poor guy didn't know what he was doing. About an hour later, he was still walking in circles. I feared he would have a seizure in the middle of the night and end up suffering and I just couldn't allow that. Instead, I called Bree and let her know what was happening then talked to Howard a little to make sure I was doing the right thing at the right time. We all came to the consensus that helping him cross over now was better than waiting for the next thing to happen.
So, Pewter crossed over the Rainbow Bridge at 5:20 pm today, with help from Dr. Jack, one of my very wonderful vets. His cremains are being kept by my daughter. Normally, I bury my animals but she asked and there was no reason to say no. I am sure that as he crossed over to the other side, that asshole, Frankie, sneak attacked him as was his habit, and they chased each other happily once again.
Goodbye my Notch (a notch in his ear given to him by the Alpha at the time, Harley), my sweet Roly Poly Pewhead, my son. I miss you already. Safe journey. Oh and when you do see Frankie? Kick his ass, Old Man.