My Baby..
When I was young, I wanted my own cat. We had others, that were all quite old, and I wanted a kitten, that was mine. I'd already decided that I wanted an all white cat or an all black cat. Then my friend Katherine got an all black cat, so I particularly wanted a white one. Mom phoned around to a bunch of veterinary hospitals, without my knowing it, and asked them to call her if any all white or all black kittens were born/brought in.
Then one day, after school, I got a phone call. It was from a West Vancouver Vet that had had two white kittens born and wanted to know if I'd like to come and choose one. I looked to Mom, and she nodded. When we got to the hospital, the funniest thing was that the mother was all black. The two kittens each had a tiny spec of black on the top of their heads, but were otherwise all white. They were adorable. We talked to the vet about whether it would be better for our three other cats (two old ladies and an old gent) to get a male or a female. He told us he didn't think it was a good idea to bring a kitten into a household with three aged and very close (brothers and sisters that had been born in mom and dad's trailer together, along with another brother that passed away earlier). I went home in tears.
After being home not that long, Mom and I talked, and I was really upset with the vet. She thought about it, and said she didn't care what he thought, and we went back, forced an opinion out of him, and selected the male. While he ran around on the blue couch in the waiting area, Mom and I brainstormed names. She didn't like any of my suggestions, and I imagine they were probably pretty lame. I didn't like hers either. They were probably pretty boring. ;) But finally, she came up with Fritz. And we both agreed it was perfect.
Fritz was always a bit of a character. From the get-go, he wouldn't eat the dry food. Only tinned. So it was a pleasant surprise, about three or four years ago, when we found him munching from the dry food dish. Something in that particular blend of cat food appealed to him. About two months later, Friskies changed the blend and he didn't want it anymore. So we went on a hunt. Bosley's gave us a variety of samples, and we found Fritz would eat two of them. One was ridiculously expensive. The other wasn't cheap either, but it worked.
Fritz's diet has always been a bit strange. His favourite human foods have consisted of potato chips, french fries, peas, beans, asparagus, and corn on the cob. He would often paw into a pot of boiling asparagus and fish himself out one. (I hate asparagus, so he was free to help himself to mine). The corn on the cob has been stranger, because we don't often have it. Yet it was no surprise to see up to 6 different cobs sitting in our back yard, the floor of the kitchen, etc. I guess our neighbours had more corn than we did. And Fritz would be found gnawing on it all summer. He also likes McDonald's vanilla ice cream cones. When we made the long car trip from North Vancouver up to Vanderhoof in the summer of 1995, Fritz would crawl out of the cat carrier for his share of ice cream.
Over the years, Fritz's personality has probably come to resemble mine, especially since we moved to our current house, where he's been sleeping in my room every night. It's his room too. He's always been a talker, announcing himself when he enters the room, or does just about anything. Announces himself when you enter the room. :) Even in his old age, Fritz had a lot of spunk. He had this habit of getting too cooped up, I guess, where he'd let out a mighty roar and then sprint through the house, stopping on each floor, peeking in a room, his eyes wild, his tail waffing, then sprint up to the next floor with another roar. He liked to have things his way, and would make a fuss if he didn't get it. And he was always there when I cried. He was always there when I was sad, or needed a hug, or everyone else had gone.
Fritz is dying. He's severely dehydrated. The vet thinks his kidneys are failing. I'm surprised Fritz lasted the night. I spent most of it awake, with him, crying. We had two options: putting him in hospital, which would cost a small fortune. Or taking him home and trying to do the same thing for him there. We're trying the second one. When I took him to the vet today, I was prepared to be told it was time to put him down. But the vet seemed hopeful. We're going to try to rehydrate him, and see how it goes. But it may not be enough.
He is my baby. And my heart is breaking. I'm going to miss him so very much.
Then one day, after school, I got a phone call. It was from a West Vancouver Vet that had had two white kittens born and wanted to know if I'd like to come and choose one. I looked to Mom, and she nodded. When we got to the hospital, the funniest thing was that the mother was all black. The two kittens each had a tiny spec of black on the top of their heads, but were otherwise all white. They were adorable. We talked to the vet about whether it would be better for our three other cats (two old ladies and an old gent) to get a male or a female. He told us he didn't think it was a good idea to bring a kitten into a household with three aged and very close (brothers and sisters that had been born in mom and dad's trailer together, along with another brother that passed away earlier). I went home in tears.
After being home not that long, Mom and I talked, and I was really upset with the vet. She thought about it, and said she didn't care what he thought, and we went back, forced an opinion out of him, and selected the male. While he ran around on the blue couch in the waiting area, Mom and I brainstormed names. She didn't like any of my suggestions, and I imagine they were probably pretty lame. I didn't like hers either. They were probably pretty boring. ;) But finally, she came up with Fritz. And we both agreed it was perfect.
Fritz was always a bit of a character. From the get-go, he wouldn't eat the dry food. Only tinned. So it was a pleasant surprise, about three or four years ago, when we found him munching from the dry food dish. Something in that particular blend of cat food appealed to him. About two months later, Friskies changed the blend and he didn't want it anymore. So we went on a hunt. Bosley's gave us a variety of samples, and we found Fritz would eat two of them. One was ridiculously expensive. The other wasn't cheap either, but it worked.
Fritz's diet has always been a bit strange. His favourite human foods have consisted of potato chips, french fries, peas, beans, asparagus, and corn on the cob. He would often paw into a pot of boiling asparagus and fish himself out one. (I hate asparagus, so he was free to help himself to mine). The corn on the cob has been stranger, because we don't often have it. Yet it was no surprise to see up to 6 different cobs sitting in our back yard, the floor of the kitchen, etc. I guess our neighbours had more corn than we did. And Fritz would be found gnawing on it all summer. He also likes McDonald's vanilla ice cream cones. When we made the long car trip from North Vancouver up to Vanderhoof in the summer of 1995, Fritz would crawl out of the cat carrier for his share of ice cream.
Over the years, Fritz's personality has probably come to resemble mine, especially since we moved to our current house, where he's been sleeping in my room every night. It's his room too. He's always been a talker, announcing himself when he enters the room, or does just about anything. Announces himself when you enter the room. :) Even in his old age, Fritz had a lot of spunk. He had this habit of getting too cooped up, I guess, where he'd let out a mighty roar and then sprint through the house, stopping on each floor, peeking in a room, his eyes wild, his tail waffing, then sprint up to the next floor with another roar. He liked to have things his way, and would make a fuss if he didn't get it. And he was always there when I cried. He was always there when I was sad, or needed a hug, or everyone else had gone.
Fritz is dying. He's severely dehydrated. The vet thinks his kidneys are failing. I'm surprised Fritz lasted the night. I spent most of it awake, with him, crying. We had two options: putting him in hospital, which would cost a small fortune. Or taking him home and trying to do the same thing for him there. We're trying the second one. When I took him to the vet today, I was prepared to be told it was time to put him down. But the vet seemed hopeful. We're going to try to rehydrate him, and see how it goes. But it may not be enough.
He is my baby. And my heart is breaking. I'm going to miss him so very much.