Goodbye to Georgie.
Poop. Mum messaged me this morning to say that our oldest cat, George, is going to be put to sleep. It's happening at 7:20pm tonight, so I won't see her again.
George was an accidental acquisition; we'd already been to see a litter of black kittens, taken from a feral farm cat, and had chosen a little girl who we eventually named C-For-Cat (well, actually she chose us. I was sitting on the sofa and she climbed up next to me, buried herself in the crook of my arm and fell asleep). When we went back to pick her up, there was a tiny (but very pudgy) grey kitten, who the owners had found wandering the farm by herself. She was the same age as the black litter, so we've always assumed that she was their sister and had just become separated somehow. Anyway, long story short, we came home with two kittens that day. ;)
George has been plagued by obsessions her entire life. She will get fixated on the oddest thing - usually some place she really really really wants to sit - and she will develop tunnel vision in regards to it. Nothing else will exist in her world except for that one, glorious spot; and she will sit on it, regardless of whether there's something in her way. Like my dinner, for example. -_-
She has never acquired a proper meow. Instead, she makes a hoarse sort of hissing noise - if you open your mouth and try to breathe "ha" in the back of your throat, you will make a sound akin to George's meow. Sometimes, she'll get confused and lost and just stand in an empty room of the house "ha"ing forlornly until someone goes to find her or calls her in to where they're sitting.
George gets confused a lot. To be honest, I do think there is something cognitively wrong with her; we've often joked that she's not all there, but a vacant expression is pretty much the norm for Georgie. She's also had the occasional fit in the past, but never regular ones.
She got beaten up by a tough neighbourhood cat some years ago, and now her left ear tip is split and curled. One of her whiskers is randomly curly.
Earlier this year she developed a lump on her chest; we suspected that the cancer which had claimed her sister, some years earlier, had come back for her. Mum and Dad made the decision to let her have as much of her summer as she could; she's 15, and the stress of taking her to the vets and subsequent operations to remove the growth would not have been worth it. Much better that she enjoy her last days happy and content in the sunshine, thinking her happy rainbow thoughts, instead of stressed and scared in some sterile room.
Now, however, she is unable - or unwilling - to clean herself. The lump has been getting bigger. She had a good summer, the best this country has had in years, and I think she had a good life too.
Good night, Georgie-bear. Thank you for finding us.
Some photos. This is her as a baby, with her sister eating her tail .... poor Georgie.
She's inspecting a little model I was making, ha.
She does not approve of the finished item.
When we first got the kittens, George did not think much of them. This photo looks like some kind of crime scene. :P
George with Jack Sparrow and no pupils, creepily.
Trying to sleep, which is hard with Pimms playing for the camera next to her.
Snuggling with Mum. She actually looks quite lucid here!
The last time I saw her.
Go and find your sister, Gébert. Sleep well.
George was an accidental acquisition; we'd already been to see a litter of black kittens, taken from a feral farm cat, and had chosen a little girl who we eventually named C-For-Cat (well, actually she chose us. I was sitting on the sofa and she climbed up next to me, buried herself in the crook of my arm and fell asleep). When we went back to pick her up, there was a tiny (but very pudgy) grey kitten, who the owners had found wandering the farm by herself. She was the same age as the black litter, so we've always assumed that she was their sister and had just become separated somehow. Anyway, long story short, we came home with two kittens that day. ;)
George has been plagued by obsessions her entire life. She will get fixated on the oddest thing - usually some place she really really really wants to sit - and she will develop tunnel vision in regards to it. Nothing else will exist in her world except for that one, glorious spot; and she will sit on it, regardless of whether there's something in her way. Like my dinner, for example. -_-
She has never acquired a proper meow. Instead, she makes a hoarse sort of hissing noise - if you open your mouth and try to breathe "ha" in the back of your throat, you will make a sound akin to George's meow. Sometimes, she'll get confused and lost and just stand in an empty room of the house "ha"ing forlornly until someone goes to find her or calls her in to where they're sitting.
George gets confused a lot. To be honest, I do think there is something cognitively wrong with her; we've often joked that she's not all there, but a vacant expression is pretty much the norm for Georgie. She's also had the occasional fit in the past, but never regular ones.
She got beaten up by a tough neighbourhood cat some years ago, and now her left ear tip is split and curled. One of her whiskers is randomly curly.
Earlier this year she developed a lump on her chest; we suspected that the cancer which had claimed her sister, some years earlier, had come back for her. Mum and Dad made the decision to let her have as much of her summer as she could; she's 15, and the stress of taking her to the vets and subsequent operations to remove the growth would not have been worth it. Much better that she enjoy her last days happy and content in the sunshine, thinking her happy rainbow thoughts, instead of stressed and scared in some sterile room.
Now, however, she is unable - or unwilling - to clean herself. The lump has been getting bigger. She had a good summer, the best this country has had in years, and I think she had a good life too.
Good night, Georgie-bear. Thank you for finding us.
Some photos. This is her as a baby, with her sister eating her tail .... poor Georgie.
She's inspecting a little model I was making, ha.
She does not approve of the finished item.
When we first got the kittens, George did not think much of them. This photo looks like some kind of crime scene. :P
George with Jack Sparrow and no pupils, creepily.
Trying to sleep, which is hard with Pimms playing for the camera next to her.
Snuggling with Mum. She actually looks quite lucid here!
The last time I saw her.
Go and find your sister, Gébert. Sleep well.