For Chrissy
Chrissy, my cat, died on Tuesday. I'd only had her a little over 10 weeks. She was 10-12 years old. I had her put to sleep after three weeks of trying to nurse her and visits to the vet. In the end, the vet thinks she had colon cancer. It was that or an intestinal problem.
I could have had X-rays done, but based on her pooping, it seemed cancer was far more likely. She was also an older cat, so even if it were an intestinal problem, she would have had to be on IVs for several days to have an hope she would get over it (and she'd already had all kinds of things put in her, so the likelihood of it working seemed low).
I met Chrissy at DAWS. She was sitting on top of the cages. I offered her my hand to sniff. At first she seemed disinterested, but as I started talking to a volunteer, she came closer for more attention. Then she hopped down on the floor and began rubbing against me. She walked me over to her cage and told me about it. I loved her. I loved that she talked with me, that she was confident and cuddly. I was also partial to her Maine Coon looks. She also had this teeny nose and huge eyes.
I took her home with another cat, Henrietta. Henrietta was a "shy" cat who seemed to like me. While her disposition has improved since moving home with me: she plays string, likes fenris, tolerates Mana, and runs around like a maniac at 4 a.m., she's not confident or cuddly. She's a kitty anthropologist investigating these strange human things. And right now she's not too happy with me for taking Chrissy away.
Chrissy was relaxed, and often flopped in the bed I bought for her. When I brought her home she purred for three days straight, she was so happy (and high on catnip). She would come up to me when I went to get catfood and stick her nose into the back of my knee to remind me to feed her and hurry up about it. She'd make cute little "Purp" noises to tell me all about her day, or what she and Henrietta wanted me to do now. The Ambassador From the Planet Purp. She had no teeth, but it didn't stop her eating dry food or gumming cat toys to death. I took her to a groomer to get all of her mats out, and she bit me five times. She hated her carrier and would cry the whole time.
But she was also the Adventure Kitty, who liked to explore strange new places. I took her outside in my arms to scent the place after it got too cold for her to sit in the windows. Some days she would hop up next to me and place her tail on me, and just sit companionably. As she became sick, I started taking showers with her in the hopes it would clear her nose and help her recover. She tried to hop into the shower at other times after that. She also started to sleep on top of my bed with me (frequently sitting in the exact center so that I had to curl around her.
In the end she hated me for medicating her and shoving food down her throat. She would glare at me and was angry with me. And Monday I just stopped force feeding her because I couldn't keep it up. Tuesday when I came home she couldn't go more than two feet without falling over. So I took her back to the vets for the second time, and they told me there was likely little left to do.
Chrissy was so quiet and still during that visit, it seemed she'd just given up. She was trying to die. And while I wanted even one more day with her, she would just be in pain, barely walking, and having breathing problems. So I said goodbye to her. After they gave her a sedative, I stayed with her. Rather than going to sleep, the tiny kitty wanted to jump down and explore suddenly. I had to catch her and pet her, soothing her to sleep. She wouldn't close her eyes. When she was limp, it took a long time for them to come back and give her the final shot.
And now I'm all in pieces. I thought I'd have her for 4-6 years, so I wasn't at all ready. But even that might not have been enough. I've had something like 21 cats now. And I have loved them all. But some of them just suit better than others: Salem, Glover, Wu, and Chrissy. Salem died 6 years ago and I had a long time to get used to being without her while she was alive because I was at college. Glover is with my parents and though I only knew him a week he keeps looking for me. Wu was a cat I rescued in college and had only for a day or two before the shelter was able to pick her up (couldn't keep cats at college).
So now I'm all in pieces and feeling particularly lonely and that life is unfair. And I'd still do the whole thing all over again because it was worth it to be with her even a little while. But damn it hurts right now.
I could have had X-rays done, but based on her pooping, it seemed cancer was far more likely. She was also an older cat, so even if it were an intestinal problem, she would have had to be on IVs for several days to have an hope she would get over it (and she'd already had all kinds of things put in her, so the likelihood of it working seemed low).
I met Chrissy at DAWS. She was sitting on top of the cages. I offered her my hand to sniff. At first she seemed disinterested, but as I started talking to a volunteer, she came closer for more attention. Then she hopped down on the floor and began rubbing against me. She walked me over to her cage and told me about it. I loved her. I loved that she talked with me, that she was confident and cuddly. I was also partial to her Maine Coon looks. She also had this teeny nose and huge eyes.
I took her home with another cat, Henrietta. Henrietta was a "shy" cat who seemed to like me. While her disposition has improved since moving home with me: she plays string, likes fenris, tolerates Mana, and runs around like a maniac at 4 a.m., she's not confident or cuddly. She's a kitty anthropologist investigating these strange human things. And right now she's not too happy with me for taking Chrissy away.
Chrissy was relaxed, and often flopped in the bed I bought for her. When I brought her home she purred for three days straight, she was so happy (and high on catnip). She would come up to me when I went to get catfood and stick her nose into the back of my knee to remind me to feed her and hurry up about it. She'd make cute little "Purp" noises to tell me all about her day, or what she and Henrietta wanted me to do now. The Ambassador From the Planet Purp. She had no teeth, but it didn't stop her eating dry food or gumming cat toys to death. I took her to a groomer to get all of her mats out, and she bit me five times. She hated her carrier and would cry the whole time.
But she was also the Adventure Kitty, who liked to explore strange new places. I took her outside in my arms to scent the place after it got too cold for her to sit in the windows. Some days she would hop up next to me and place her tail on me, and just sit companionably. As she became sick, I started taking showers with her in the hopes it would clear her nose and help her recover. She tried to hop into the shower at other times after that. She also started to sleep on top of my bed with me (frequently sitting in the exact center so that I had to curl around her.
In the end she hated me for medicating her and shoving food down her throat. She would glare at me and was angry with me. And Monday I just stopped force feeding her because I couldn't keep it up. Tuesday when I came home she couldn't go more than two feet without falling over. So I took her back to the vets for the second time, and they told me there was likely little left to do.
Chrissy was so quiet and still during that visit, it seemed she'd just given up. She was trying to die. And while I wanted even one more day with her, she would just be in pain, barely walking, and having breathing problems. So I said goodbye to her. After they gave her a sedative, I stayed with her. Rather than going to sleep, the tiny kitty wanted to jump down and explore suddenly. I had to catch her and pet her, soothing her to sleep. She wouldn't close her eyes. When she was limp, it took a long time for them to come back and give her the final shot.
And now I'm all in pieces. I thought I'd have her for 4-6 years, so I wasn't at all ready. But even that might not have been enough. I've had something like 21 cats now. And I have loved them all. But some of them just suit better than others: Salem, Glover, Wu, and Chrissy. Salem died 6 years ago and I had a long time to get used to being without her while she was alive because I was at college. Glover is with my parents and though I only knew him a week he keeps looking for me. Wu was a cat I rescued in college and had only for a day or two before the shelter was able to pick her up (couldn't keep cats at college).
So now I'm all in pieces and feeling particularly lonely and that life is unfair. And I'd still do the whole thing all over again because it was worth it to be with her even a little while. But damn it hurts right now.