In memoriam
Last night, probably around 11pm, Zeebee May Manx (aka schmoopies, zeebinator, zeebers, beebers, babers, baber-wabers) left this world for the next. She is survived by me, her functionally distraught adopted mom, my family, and Huckleberry and Wheezer, my family's cats. She will be missed by many many people as she lived for nearly 16 years, in two states, and has shared every post-college apartment with me.
It's a small wonder that she even made it this far. At three years old, she went missing for three days. At some point on that first day, she was hit by a car and left to die. Thankfully, she only had a broken hip, and was able to drag herself home. She had to have a wire and pin put in that hip, and spent 3 months comfined to my bedroom while. From evidence of recent x-rays, it did not heal too well. As a result, she had a slight limp that would get worse in cold weather, when I would tease her for "pimp limping". That injury recently lead to significant arthritis in the opposite knee from compinsating for some many years.
A few years down the road she had another medical emergency which I will spare the gorey details. The basics are that because of her breed and particular genetic makeup, the end of her spinal column is open and covered only by a flap of skin, rather than a bone, and that area was disturbed. The doctors actually wished they could have written a paper about the incident, because though they had seen the condition in dogs before, never in a cat. There was some technical glitch about who discovered it that wouldn't let them write it up. After cleaning her up and getting her on medication, it was touch and go for a few days. The vet was worried about spinal fluid leaking out, or a recurrence of the issue. It was 50/50 between it healing on its own and a surgery we could no way afford. But my little fuzzball bounced back. Even pulled her own drain out!
As she got older she developed a weight problem. I eventually had to put her on diet food. Shortly there after the exact opposite happened. She was losing weight too rapidly. This led to the discovery of her hyperthyroidism, for which she had since been on medication.
Her kidneys had been touch and go for a few years as a result of the weight fluctuations and recurring UTIs. Most recently she had a particularly tough one. Three different medications later, I think it finally just got too tiring for her. I don't blame her at all. I knew all day Monday that she probably wouldn't make it through the day. She'd stopped eating the night before, and had spent all of Sunday under the Christmas tree just has she had done every other Christmas she was at my parent's house. I wasn't able to get her to eat anything on Monday, although she was still drinking fairly normally. But her meow had changed, and she wasn't moving well. I told a couple people of my concern, and they asked why I didn't take her to a vet down there. Quite simply, she and I both knew that it was just time. She spent most of the last month in and out of the vet with various complaints, and I was tired of subjecting her to that. Also, if she was going to go, I'd rather she did it at home. Midafternoon, she got herself (with a little help from me. Those hardwood floors were difficult to navigate!) into the bathroom. That's where she wanted to be, so that's where I left her. I brought her food and water in, and left the light on. I sat with her for a while, but I was supposed to meet a friend. She didn't look to good, but also didn't look uncomfortable, and was meowing and purring. I was very conflicted as to whether or not I should go out, but looking at her, I knew that she wouldn't go as long as I was there, but that she really wanted to. So my friend agreed to meet me close to my house, and understood I couldn't stay long. I picked her up and just held her for about five minutes. I told her that I knew she didn't want me there when it happened, and as much as I wanted her not to go, I understood if she had to, and that she should do whatever was best. I ruffled her ears, gave her a big squeeze, and a kiss on the head, looked one last time into her eyes, and laid her back down on the bathmat. She meowed and curled up. I gave her one last pet, said goodbye again and left for a little more than an hour and a half. When I came back, she had died.
At first I thought it might have been a bad death, because her water dish was completely knocked over. But this morning I thought more about how I found her and I think I know what really happened. She was right in front of the bathtub, which was one of her favorite places to hide, especially during the summer. I had left the water bowl right in front of her, and when I found it, it was closer to her back legs. I think she knocked in out of her way as she tried to climb in the bathtub one last time.
As I write this, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Yreka because snow has shut down the pass. Zeebee is packed in a disposable ice chest in the trunk of my car. It is a very good thing it is freezing outside. I needed to get out of San Jose and get back to Ashland, mostly for myself, but also because I need to figure out what to do with her, and I couldn't leave her behind. I haven't made any detailed decisions, but I do know that she will be cremated. I just want to be home with my kitty. And home is where she is, and right now she isn't really here, so I'm not sure where I'm at. Hopefully I will figure that part out in the morning. I know I'm going to some really good friends who are already waiting with big hugs and warm hearts. I can't get there fast enough.
It's a small wonder that she even made it this far. At three years old, she went missing for three days. At some point on that first day, she was hit by a car and left to die. Thankfully, she only had a broken hip, and was able to drag herself home. She had to have a wire and pin put in that hip, and spent 3 months comfined to my bedroom while. From evidence of recent x-rays, it did not heal too well. As a result, she had a slight limp that would get worse in cold weather, when I would tease her for "pimp limping". That injury recently lead to significant arthritis in the opposite knee from compinsating for some many years.
A few years down the road she had another medical emergency which I will spare the gorey details. The basics are that because of her breed and particular genetic makeup, the end of her spinal column is open and covered only by a flap of skin, rather than a bone, and that area was disturbed. The doctors actually wished they could have written a paper about the incident, because though they had seen the condition in dogs before, never in a cat. There was some technical glitch about who discovered it that wouldn't let them write it up. After cleaning her up and getting her on medication, it was touch and go for a few days. The vet was worried about spinal fluid leaking out, or a recurrence of the issue. It was 50/50 between it healing on its own and a surgery we could no way afford. But my little fuzzball bounced back. Even pulled her own drain out!
As she got older she developed a weight problem. I eventually had to put her on diet food. Shortly there after the exact opposite happened. She was losing weight too rapidly. This led to the discovery of her hyperthyroidism, for which she had since been on medication.
Her kidneys had been touch and go for a few years as a result of the weight fluctuations and recurring UTIs. Most recently she had a particularly tough one. Three different medications later, I think it finally just got too tiring for her. I don't blame her at all. I knew all day Monday that she probably wouldn't make it through the day. She'd stopped eating the night before, and had spent all of Sunday under the Christmas tree just has she had done every other Christmas she was at my parent's house. I wasn't able to get her to eat anything on Monday, although she was still drinking fairly normally. But her meow had changed, and she wasn't moving well. I told a couple people of my concern, and they asked why I didn't take her to a vet down there. Quite simply, she and I both knew that it was just time. She spent most of the last month in and out of the vet with various complaints, and I was tired of subjecting her to that. Also, if she was going to go, I'd rather she did it at home. Midafternoon, she got herself (with a little help from me. Those hardwood floors were difficult to navigate!) into the bathroom. That's where she wanted to be, so that's where I left her. I brought her food and water in, and left the light on. I sat with her for a while, but I was supposed to meet a friend. She didn't look to good, but also didn't look uncomfortable, and was meowing and purring. I was very conflicted as to whether or not I should go out, but looking at her, I knew that she wouldn't go as long as I was there, but that she really wanted to. So my friend agreed to meet me close to my house, and understood I couldn't stay long. I picked her up and just held her for about five minutes. I told her that I knew she didn't want me there when it happened, and as much as I wanted her not to go, I understood if she had to, and that she should do whatever was best. I ruffled her ears, gave her a big squeeze, and a kiss on the head, looked one last time into her eyes, and laid her back down on the bathmat. She meowed and curled up. I gave her one last pet, said goodbye again and left for a little more than an hour and a half. When I came back, she had died.
At first I thought it might have been a bad death, because her water dish was completely knocked over. But this morning I thought more about how I found her and I think I know what really happened. She was right in front of the bathtub, which was one of her favorite places to hide, especially during the summer. I had left the water bowl right in front of her, and when I found it, it was closer to her back legs. I think she knocked in out of her way as she tried to climb in the bathtub one last time.
As I write this, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Yreka because snow has shut down the pass. Zeebee is packed in a disposable ice chest in the trunk of my car. It is a very good thing it is freezing outside. I needed to get out of San Jose and get back to Ashland, mostly for myself, but also because I need to figure out what to do with her, and I couldn't leave her behind. I haven't made any detailed decisions, but I do know that she will be cremated. I just want to be home with my kitty. And home is where she is, and right now she isn't really here, so I'm not sure where I'm at. Hopefully I will figure that part out in the morning. I know I'm going to some really good friends who are already waiting with big hugs and warm hearts. I can't get there fast enough.