Iddy Biddy Homage
The summer after 4th grade, my best friend, Karen, was signed up to take tennis lessons at one of the local parks. My parents thought this was a good way to keep me occupied, so I wound up going too.
During one of the lessons, this scrawny cat wandered onto the tennis court. Karen and I decided to stop what we were doing, and, along with another friend (I don't remember who), proceeded to give attention to this little kitty, mainly with the motivation of keeping it from getting hit by a car. Well, that and we like cats. Since it wasn't wearing a collar, we soon hatched a plan to see if my parents would let me keep it. Karen couldn't take it - she already had 4 cats, and knew her folks wouldn't let her have another. Part of the idea of me asking my folks hinged on us not having the supplies for a kitty, so after Karen's mom picked us up, we swung by Karen's house for a small cat box, some food, and some litter.
"Can we keep this kitty? It came with it's own food and everything!!"
Surprisingly enough, we could keep it, but only if we put up posters around the park about the found cat. My brother and I made the signs, and also demanded proof that the kitty was theirs. No one called. ^^
After some debate (during which my desire to name her either Chester (which was vetoed after Karen checked and found her a female) or Socks ("not unique enough")), Mom started calling her Iddy Biddy, Biddy for short. As in, "she's an iddy biddy kitty and we're going to love her and hug her and call her Biddy." I didn't like it at first, but it stuck.
When we took her to a vet, I remember she had worms and ear mites at the time, and the vet pronounced her to be about 2 years old. Since she came to us from being a stray, she demanded going outside, and so was indoor/outdoor kitty.
An indoor/outdoor kitty on a block with mostly dogs.
After she decided to wonder farther than our yard and we couldn't find her for over an hour, we decided to get her a harness and keep her leashed in the yard. The leash laws in this city technically apply to cats as well, so we'd also have been more legal that way. This didn't keep her from escaping sometimes, of course. She was very good at bolting. She was also good at breaking those nylon rope leashes. She snapped two, and bent the eye-ring on another almost strait, and wandered around the yard for awhile. We finally had her on a light dog chain, and she was fine with that.
We did of course get her fixed; it only took her going into heat a few times to convince us to do that. Mom thought she'd hurt her back the first time she did so, though. ^^ Mom still swears she was wondering around the house calling, "herro, sairah!" She was rather dizzy when she came home from the vets', so we let her nap for a bit before bugging her.
She loved climbing the apple trees in the back yard, leash or not. She came close to strangling herself the one time, when the leash got tangled in the branches and she tried jumping down. That was scary, but when I called the vet after getting her down and getting her some water, I was told I'd done the right thing, so ok. Biddy didn't climb the trees very often after that.
She did still jump into windows, though, which resulted in Dad closing the door to their bedroom upstairs, after she tried jumping into the window about their bed. Eight feet above their bed. Which was closed, and she wound up landing on Mom, saying "aarro" when she saw Mom was now up, and trying again, which resulted in Mom taking her back downstairs and closing the door. Then again, Dad had been concerned with the possibility of her either messing up or chewing the cords to her computer, so that might have had something to do with it.
She also had a fondness to music, sort of. She didn't like my trumpet, but she liked Mom's flute (I have a picture of her sitting and watching Mom play, somewhere), and liked the piano. Actually, she climbed inside the piano and played it like a harp until we closed the lid. She also liked hitting the keys then climbing up to see where the noise came from, and tried playing every now and then. She started playing the first measure or two of "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" one year, but kept going down in scale instead of up, so stopped playing at "Jolly old Saint Ni--." Mom thought it was me trying to play and called out a correction a few times, before going over and discovering it was Biddy, who gave her one of those, "what?" looks that cats are so good at.
Like so many other cats, Biddy slept where ever she wanted. In the last few months, this has included the bathroom floor. When my brother still lived with us, she often slept at the end of his bed, and he learned the hard way what could happen if he accidentally rolled over onto her. We never got her de-clawed, since she went outside so much. We wanted her to be able to defend herself.
Especially from dive-bombing crows and rooks, who liked to tease her one summer, until she jumped and landed on the one's back, swatted it's head and tail, and let it go. They stopped bothering her after that, mind. She did rid our yard of moles, when we'd let her. They made terrible noises when she caught them; mice just tried to make themselves smaller. She loved them for toys, though, and would bat them back and forth, until we stopped her. Word must have spread though, since we've not seen either moles or mice in our yard for quite some time. Rabbits, now, those we have. Biddy liked to hang out with them, actually.
Biddy was a very territorial cat. We wound up with a black cat staying with us one summer, who proceeded to have kittens. Biddy expressed her displeasure with the usual methods, ruining one of Mom's cassette tapes in the process. Since then, Biddy has been the only kitty in the house, which was fine. She'd hiss at any cat the looked like it might be considering coming into her yard, even if she was in the window and not actually outside. They certainly listened to her, though.
She loved playing, though as always her favorite toy was a piece of string. She never was interested in eating the thread and yarn we have in the house though. Then again, the few times she did, we always caught her and pulled said thread out of her mouth, and I doubt she liked that. We did of course get her balls, and other play toys, which she usually batted around for a bit and then would lose interest in. Her favorite toys had a human on the other end. We got her those poofy, fluffy mice only once - she proceeded to wash them and treat them like a kitten, instead of a play toy. ^^
When she started having trouble jumping, and still wanted to get up on my bed, I made her little stairs on the side of my loft, so she could climb up. The last few years, she didn't normally want to go upstairs anymore, but the few times she did, I brought her up. She didn't have trouble going downstairs, mind. Got herself stuck a few times, actually.
She would still wander around the house at night, calling. even when she started having trouble walking, she would yowl. She always bawled out the vet technicians, any time they had to do anything to her. She would be heartily offended if I came home smelling like another cat, so I would spend some time giving her attention and apologizing.
She would always inhale her gooshy food and get sick, so I got into the habit of telling her to not eat too quickly, or she'd make herself sick. She generally ignored that comment except to slow down, though I did get a "mewr-mowr" out of her the one time, which made it sound like she was going, "yeah, yeah."
We hadn't been taking her to the vet in the last few years; I was afraid they would just think she was too old, and have me put her down just because of that. Since she wasn't too keen on going outside the last few years, we didn't feel it necessary to keep her shots up to date, and the vet column in the paper supported that thought, with an older cat in mind.
She was such a silly kitty. If we were here having macaroni and cheese, she had to have some. Same with chicken, and fish - especially if she knew we were cooking something with tuna. She'd smell it cooking, and camp out into the kitchen until we gave her some, and bawl us out if we didn't. She also like broccoli, cream of wheat, rice, and pasta, though she didn't get those nearly as often as I'm sure she would have liked.
Biddy kitty was, in a way, my therapy kitty. Anytime I was upset, I would give her attention, and it would make me feel better. Whether it was me getting angry at a video game, or because the kids at school teased me, or I was just down. She'd let me cuddle and pet her, and I'd feel batter. I started calling her my sunshine kitty a few years ago - both because she made me better and because she was orange. Every night, I would cuddle her and have her purring for at least a minute, tell her goodnight and that I loved her and would see her in the morning. She cheered me up, and I was happy to know when I went to a convention, she'd be there when I got home, demanding attention and bawling me out for leaving at the same time.
Over the past few years, her claws started growing very quickly, and I had my friend Karen (who is now studying to be a vet technician) come over and help me with her claws. They were actually growing like ram's horns (curved), and very thick, so we normally had to do this once every three months or so. The last time I brought her into the vet was because of her claws, actually; they'd grown faster than we thought, and were cutting into her pads. I'd asked about arthritis medication at the time, but didn't have the money for the blood work they wanted done at the time. This was back in January 2009, and I do have to wonder what the blood work might have turned up if I'd had it done then.
This past week, when she suddenly started eating very little, or not at all, when just last week she was still inhaling certain kinds of gooshy food, I got concerned, and when her walk became hesitant, I took her in. She protested in the car, of course - she hated going to the vet. The vet said it was probably her thyroid, and she would be very surprised if it wasn't, especially at her age, and all we could do is wait for the blood work to come back and confirm it.
This morning the phone rang at about 9:05, with the other vet on the phone. She told me the tests came back, and my Iddy Biddy Kitty was undergoing Kidney failure, and was at stage 3 out of 4 (with 4 being the worst). We could admit her to a pet hospital and they could administer an IV for 48 hours (with a 30% survival rate), or we could come in and learn how to give her some shots and some medication (with a 20% survival rate), and after a bit of silence on my part, asked if we wanted to think about it.
Needless to say, after I hung up, I started bawling. I let my parents know what I was told, and with the survival rates being what they were, we decided to best thing for us to do would be to have her put to sleep. I told my kitty what we were going to do, that we were going to take her to the vet, and the vet would give her something that would make her sleep a long time, and I would miss her. I called the vet back, and made the appointment, with the understanding that we wanted her cremated and given back to us.
At 10:15 this morning, I held her and cried while the vet gave her the shot. I told her I was sorry, that I loved her, and that I would miss her. Halfway through administration, she put her head down on her paws, and by the time the shot was empty, she was gone.
Up until the end, she acted like a her normal kitty self, with her wandering around, yowling, and purring when giving attention. I know now that she was in a lot of pain, and I only wish I had known sooner, so she wouldn't have been. She's free of pain now, and doesn't have to act like nothing's wrong.
And I know, if cats aren't let into heaven, I don't want in either.
Rest in Peace, my Sunshine kitty. I miss you. T_T
During one of the lessons, this scrawny cat wandered onto the tennis court. Karen and I decided to stop what we were doing, and, along with another friend (I don't remember who), proceeded to give attention to this little kitty, mainly with the motivation of keeping it from getting hit by a car. Well, that and we like cats. Since it wasn't wearing a collar, we soon hatched a plan to see if my parents would let me keep it. Karen couldn't take it - she already had 4 cats, and knew her folks wouldn't let her have another. Part of the idea of me asking my folks hinged on us not having the supplies for a kitty, so after Karen's mom picked us up, we swung by Karen's house for a small cat box, some food, and some litter.
"Can we keep this kitty? It came with it's own food and everything!!"
Surprisingly enough, we could keep it, but only if we put up posters around the park about the found cat. My brother and I made the signs, and also demanded proof that the kitty was theirs. No one called. ^^
After some debate (during which my desire to name her either Chester (which was vetoed after Karen checked and found her a female) or Socks ("not unique enough")), Mom started calling her Iddy Biddy, Biddy for short. As in, "she's an iddy biddy kitty and we're going to love her and hug her and call her Biddy." I didn't like it at first, but it stuck.
When we took her to a vet, I remember she had worms and ear mites at the time, and the vet pronounced her to be about 2 years old. Since she came to us from being a stray, she demanded going outside, and so was indoor/outdoor kitty.
An indoor/outdoor kitty on a block with mostly dogs.
After she decided to wonder farther than our yard and we couldn't find her for over an hour, we decided to get her a harness and keep her leashed in the yard. The leash laws in this city technically apply to cats as well, so we'd also have been more legal that way. This didn't keep her from escaping sometimes, of course. She was very good at bolting. She was also good at breaking those nylon rope leashes. She snapped two, and bent the eye-ring on another almost strait, and wandered around the yard for awhile. We finally had her on a light dog chain, and she was fine with that.
We did of course get her fixed; it only took her going into heat a few times to convince us to do that. Mom thought she'd hurt her back the first time she did so, though. ^^ Mom still swears she was wondering around the house calling, "herro, sairah!" She was rather dizzy when she came home from the vets', so we let her nap for a bit before bugging her.
She loved climbing the apple trees in the back yard, leash or not. She came close to strangling herself the one time, when the leash got tangled in the branches and she tried jumping down. That was scary, but when I called the vet after getting her down and getting her some water, I was told I'd done the right thing, so ok. Biddy didn't climb the trees very often after that.
She did still jump into windows, though, which resulted in Dad closing the door to their bedroom upstairs, after she tried jumping into the window about their bed. Eight feet above their bed. Which was closed, and she wound up landing on Mom, saying "aarro" when she saw Mom was now up, and trying again, which resulted in Mom taking her back downstairs and closing the door. Then again, Dad had been concerned with the possibility of her either messing up or chewing the cords to her computer, so that might have had something to do with it.
She also had a fondness to music, sort of. She didn't like my trumpet, but she liked Mom's flute (I have a picture of her sitting and watching Mom play, somewhere), and liked the piano. Actually, she climbed inside the piano and played it like a harp until we closed the lid. She also liked hitting the keys then climbing up to see where the noise came from, and tried playing every now and then. She started playing the first measure or two of "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" one year, but kept going down in scale instead of up, so stopped playing at "Jolly old Saint Ni--." Mom thought it was me trying to play and called out a correction a few times, before going over and discovering it was Biddy, who gave her one of those, "what?" looks that cats are so good at.
Like so many other cats, Biddy slept where ever she wanted. In the last few months, this has included the bathroom floor. When my brother still lived with us, she often slept at the end of his bed, and he learned the hard way what could happen if he accidentally rolled over onto her. We never got her de-clawed, since she went outside so much. We wanted her to be able to defend herself.
Especially from dive-bombing crows and rooks, who liked to tease her one summer, until she jumped and landed on the one's back, swatted it's head and tail, and let it go. They stopped bothering her after that, mind. She did rid our yard of moles, when we'd let her. They made terrible noises when she caught them; mice just tried to make themselves smaller. She loved them for toys, though, and would bat them back and forth, until we stopped her. Word must have spread though, since we've not seen either moles or mice in our yard for quite some time. Rabbits, now, those we have. Biddy liked to hang out with them, actually.
Biddy was a very territorial cat. We wound up with a black cat staying with us one summer, who proceeded to have kittens. Biddy expressed her displeasure with the usual methods, ruining one of Mom's cassette tapes in the process. Since then, Biddy has been the only kitty in the house, which was fine. She'd hiss at any cat the looked like it might be considering coming into her yard, even if she was in the window and not actually outside. They certainly listened to her, though.
She loved playing, though as always her favorite toy was a piece of string. She never was interested in eating the thread and yarn we have in the house though. Then again, the few times she did, we always caught her and pulled said thread out of her mouth, and I doubt she liked that. We did of course get her balls, and other play toys, which she usually batted around for a bit and then would lose interest in. Her favorite toys had a human on the other end. We got her those poofy, fluffy mice only once - she proceeded to wash them and treat them like a kitten, instead of a play toy. ^^
When she started having trouble jumping, and still wanted to get up on my bed, I made her little stairs on the side of my loft, so she could climb up. The last few years, she didn't normally want to go upstairs anymore, but the few times she did, I brought her up. She didn't have trouble going downstairs, mind. Got herself stuck a few times, actually.
She would still wander around the house at night, calling. even when she started having trouble walking, she would yowl. She always bawled out the vet technicians, any time they had to do anything to her. She would be heartily offended if I came home smelling like another cat, so I would spend some time giving her attention and apologizing.
She would always inhale her gooshy food and get sick, so I got into the habit of telling her to not eat too quickly, or she'd make herself sick. She generally ignored that comment except to slow down, though I did get a "mewr-mowr" out of her the one time, which made it sound like she was going, "yeah, yeah."
We hadn't been taking her to the vet in the last few years; I was afraid they would just think she was too old, and have me put her down just because of that. Since she wasn't too keen on going outside the last few years, we didn't feel it necessary to keep her shots up to date, and the vet column in the paper supported that thought, with an older cat in mind.
She was such a silly kitty. If we were here having macaroni and cheese, she had to have some. Same with chicken, and fish - especially if she knew we were cooking something with tuna. She'd smell it cooking, and camp out into the kitchen until we gave her some, and bawl us out if we didn't. She also like broccoli, cream of wheat, rice, and pasta, though she didn't get those nearly as often as I'm sure she would have liked.
Biddy kitty was, in a way, my therapy kitty. Anytime I was upset, I would give her attention, and it would make me feel better. Whether it was me getting angry at a video game, or because the kids at school teased me, or I was just down. She'd let me cuddle and pet her, and I'd feel batter. I started calling her my sunshine kitty a few years ago - both because she made me better and because she was orange. Every night, I would cuddle her and have her purring for at least a minute, tell her goodnight and that I loved her and would see her in the morning. She cheered me up, and I was happy to know when I went to a convention, she'd be there when I got home, demanding attention and bawling me out for leaving at the same time.
Over the past few years, her claws started growing very quickly, and I had my friend Karen (who is now studying to be a vet technician) come over and help me with her claws. They were actually growing like ram's horns (curved), and very thick, so we normally had to do this once every three months or so. The last time I brought her into the vet was because of her claws, actually; they'd grown faster than we thought, and were cutting into her pads. I'd asked about arthritis medication at the time, but didn't have the money for the blood work they wanted done at the time. This was back in January 2009, and I do have to wonder what the blood work might have turned up if I'd had it done then.
This past week, when she suddenly started eating very little, or not at all, when just last week she was still inhaling certain kinds of gooshy food, I got concerned, and when her walk became hesitant, I took her in. She protested in the car, of course - she hated going to the vet. The vet said it was probably her thyroid, and she would be very surprised if it wasn't, especially at her age, and all we could do is wait for the blood work to come back and confirm it.
This morning the phone rang at about 9:05, with the other vet on the phone. She told me the tests came back, and my Iddy Biddy Kitty was undergoing Kidney failure, and was at stage 3 out of 4 (with 4 being the worst). We could admit her to a pet hospital and they could administer an IV for 48 hours (with a 30% survival rate), or we could come in and learn how to give her some shots and some medication (with a 20% survival rate), and after a bit of silence on my part, asked if we wanted to think about it.
Needless to say, after I hung up, I started bawling. I let my parents know what I was told, and with the survival rates being what they were, we decided to best thing for us to do would be to have her put to sleep. I told my kitty what we were going to do, that we were going to take her to the vet, and the vet would give her something that would make her sleep a long time, and I would miss her. I called the vet back, and made the appointment, with the understanding that we wanted her cremated and given back to us.
At 10:15 this morning, I held her and cried while the vet gave her the shot. I told her I was sorry, that I loved her, and that I would miss her. Halfway through administration, she put her head down on her paws, and by the time the shot was empty, she was gone.
Up until the end, she acted like a her normal kitty self, with her wandering around, yowling, and purring when giving attention. I know now that she was in a lot of pain, and I only wish I had known sooner, so she wouldn't have been. She's free of pain now, and doesn't have to act like nothing's wrong.
And I know, if cats aren't let into heaven, I don't want in either.
Rest in Peace, my Sunshine kitty. I miss you. T_T