Sad.
Got bad news today.
My dad had to have Mathurin put down.
Long-time readers will remember Matt. (Mathurin's entries, obviously, are tagged appropriately.) He was my first black cat. Got him when I was 14. He's been living with my dad. The old cat was senile and crazy, but it was a happy kind of crazy, so we never really felt it would be right to put him under. He recently took a turn downhill, though, and when Dad took him to the vet for suddenly losing control of his various bodily functions, they agreed it was time.
I am sorry I was not there for him, but I am very glad that Dad did the right thing -- and it was the right thing.
I am going to miss the old bastard. Thinking about it, he was very old. Almost 17. This is not unexpected, but it does make me sad. He was a hell of a cat. Read through his entries; you will find the episode where he killed the rat and ate half of it in our kitchen. Also, I think the explanation about why we called him "The Eater of Heads" is in there, too, and possibly the story about how he earned the nickname "Buttfoam." He was a real Cat of Quality.
The picture below is the mean old man himself, chilling out on bat_cheva's leg. She is so lucky he never drooled on her. He was a very drooly cat.
In other sad news, my dad also had to have my mother's dog put down. Stanci has never been quite right since Mom died. Her liver apparently just . . . failed. She was not suffering greatly, but she would have become quite miserable in a few days if he hadn't taken pity on her.
She was a great dog. Pomeranians have a bad rep as yappy little pests, and poorly-trained ones can be pretty obnoxious, but Stanci exhibited all of the best features of the breed: great intelligence, devotion and sweetness. Stanci could count, or at least compare numbers of things and see that one group was larger and one smaller; she understood "You have more biscuits than me." She spent every minute near my mother, much as Tazendra does with me. They were inseparable. I mean, for fuck's sake, we had to carry Stanci out of the room after Mother died because she would not leave on her own. Worst thing I ever did see.
If there's any continuation for us, I believe that animals get it, too, so I suppose I can think of them as together again and feel a little better.
Honestly, I didn't expect Stanci to outlive Mom by this much. She was not young, either.
The picture below is of Stanci and Wolfie; they were best friends. Wolfie was an incredibly loving and stupid twenty-pound throwback of a Pom. He died long, long ago. They loved one another a lot, as you can clearly see. It is Stanci who's getting kissed. I suppose they're together, too, now.
I'm awfully sad about it all, even though it's for the best. It's still like . . . well . . . Mathurin was the last living part of my youth. And Stanci was part of my mother. So it's like losing more than just little friends. It's like losing the parts of my life they had come to symbolize.
And I feel bad for my dad, too, who had to put them both down. Especially Stanci, who was my mom's. Dad is very nondemonstrative, but he admitted that it was a really hard one. For him to have said that says a lot.
Tazendra is on my legs right now, dreaming of who knows what, twitching in her sleep. She had roast beef yesterday, and slept with me all night, and has made me laugh several times today.
They really aren't replaceable.
They don't live forever. We choose to love them anyway.
My dad had to have Mathurin put down.
Long-time readers will remember Matt. (Mathurin's entries, obviously, are tagged appropriately.) He was my first black cat. Got him when I was 14. He's been living with my dad. The old cat was senile and crazy, but it was a happy kind of crazy, so we never really felt it would be right to put him under. He recently took a turn downhill, though, and when Dad took him to the vet for suddenly losing control of his various bodily functions, they agreed it was time.
I am sorry I was not there for him, but I am very glad that Dad did the right thing -- and it was the right thing.
I am going to miss the old bastard. Thinking about it, he was very old. Almost 17. This is not unexpected, but it does make me sad. He was a hell of a cat. Read through his entries; you will find the episode where he killed the rat and ate half of it in our kitchen. Also, I think the explanation about why we called him "The Eater of Heads" is in there, too, and possibly the story about how he earned the nickname "Buttfoam." He was a real Cat of Quality.
The picture below is the mean old man himself, chilling out on bat_cheva's leg. She is so lucky he never drooled on her. He was a very drooly cat.
In other sad news, my dad also had to have my mother's dog put down. Stanci has never been quite right since Mom died. Her liver apparently just . . . failed. She was not suffering greatly, but she would have become quite miserable in a few days if he hadn't taken pity on her.
She was a great dog. Pomeranians have a bad rep as yappy little pests, and poorly-trained ones can be pretty obnoxious, but Stanci exhibited all of the best features of the breed: great intelligence, devotion and sweetness. Stanci could count, or at least compare numbers of things and see that one group was larger and one smaller; she understood "You have more biscuits than me." She spent every minute near my mother, much as Tazendra does with me. They were inseparable. I mean, for fuck's sake, we had to carry Stanci out of the room after Mother died because she would not leave on her own. Worst thing I ever did see.
If there's any continuation for us, I believe that animals get it, too, so I suppose I can think of them as together again and feel a little better.
Honestly, I didn't expect Stanci to outlive Mom by this much. She was not young, either.
The picture below is of Stanci and Wolfie; they were best friends. Wolfie was an incredibly loving and stupid twenty-pound throwback of a Pom. He died long, long ago. They loved one another a lot, as you can clearly see. It is Stanci who's getting kissed. I suppose they're together, too, now.
I'm awfully sad about it all, even though it's for the best. It's still like . . . well . . . Mathurin was the last living part of my youth. And Stanci was part of my mother. So it's like losing more than just little friends. It's like losing the parts of my life they had come to symbolize.
And I feel bad for my dad, too, who had to put them both down. Especially Stanci, who was my mom's. Dad is very nondemonstrative, but he admitted that it was a really hard one. For him to have said that says a lot.
Tazendra is on my legs right now, dreaming of who knows what, twitching in her sleep. She had roast beef yesterday, and slept with me all night, and has made me laugh several times today.
They really aren't replaceable.
They don't live forever. We choose to love them anyway.