Goodbye to Hobbes
Hobbes died on my lap today at home, age just about 17, in the company of heisenbug (who he loved) and bluechromis (who raised him for the first 14 years of his life). He was treated with dignity and care by the in-house vet, who actually used to know him -- bluechromis used to get in-house checkups done for all her cats, and by sheer luck we got the same doctor this evening. I have to say that I was really impressed by how nice it was to have the vet come to us. Hobbes wasn't really disturbed at all, and we were able to have an unhurried procedure, with plenty of time to watch him fall asleep under the influence of feel-good anesthesia.
Backtracking a little: I took him to the normal vet yesterday morning, only to find out that his little system was in decline. I already knew he was way too docile and not eating, but I hadn't known his body temperature was five degrees too low. He didn't have a blink reflex when the vet batted a hand near his eye, and his pupils barely contracted when a light was aimed right into them. I saw those things and I knew, even before the vet told me, that our skinny old man was on his way out. His system just wasn't sustaining itself. But the vet didn't think he was in discomfort, just kind of in a stupor, so I had the vet give him some fluids and took him back home.
I stayed home from work, and bluechromis (who had just gotten back from a month out of state; damn good timing on the return trip) was able to come hang out. We all saw Hobbes wobbling, falling over and acting really out of it. But we also saw him still able to go to the litterbox, find water and even eat a little bit. It was hard to say how bad he really felt. Then, after Blue had left and while I was off at handstand lesson, he had another seizure and seemed to get worse. After a long nap he was still able to get to the litterbox, and to get into bed with us in the night (barely). But this morning we all decided that it was best to let him go while he still had some dignity. We couldn't really leave him alone, and with heisenbug leaving on a long trip soon and a decline already in progress, tonight seemed like a good choice. It was quick -- yes, this whole thing was quick. A little sudden, even. And yet I'm sure it was better for all involved than a long, drawn-out process.
This picture is from yesterday, as he snuggled under Blue's sweatshirt in the sun.
Here is what you should know about Hobbes: he was stubborn, he was orange, he liked to eat plastic bags. Sometimes I called him Threat Level because, you know, Threat Level Orange. He hissed and growled when we got him, more than any cat I've ever seen, and he didn't like to be messed with -- but when he relaxed, his whole body melted and went impossibly flat. He loved to crawl in the covers and lie under heisenbug's knees. He would drink from the bathroom sink, letting the water get all over his head, and then shake the water all over the place. And he was big on showing affection via head-butting, and by sitting on the crossword puzzle one wanted to solve or resting his chin on the laptop one was using. His head was soft, as soft as rabbit fur. We'll miss him.
Backtracking a little: I took him to the normal vet yesterday morning, only to find out that his little system was in decline. I already knew he was way too docile and not eating, but I hadn't known his body temperature was five degrees too low. He didn't have a blink reflex when the vet batted a hand near his eye, and his pupils barely contracted when a light was aimed right into them. I saw those things and I knew, even before the vet told me, that our skinny old man was on his way out. His system just wasn't sustaining itself. But the vet didn't think he was in discomfort, just kind of in a stupor, so I had the vet give him some fluids and took him back home.
I stayed home from work, and bluechromis (who had just gotten back from a month out of state; damn good timing on the return trip) was able to come hang out. We all saw Hobbes wobbling, falling over and acting really out of it. But we also saw him still able to go to the litterbox, find water and even eat a little bit. It was hard to say how bad he really felt. Then, after Blue had left and while I was off at handstand lesson, he had another seizure and seemed to get worse. After a long nap he was still able to get to the litterbox, and to get into bed with us in the night (barely). But this morning we all decided that it was best to let him go while he still had some dignity. We couldn't really leave him alone, and with heisenbug leaving on a long trip soon and a decline already in progress, tonight seemed like a good choice. It was quick -- yes, this whole thing was quick. A little sudden, even. And yet I'm sure it was better for all involved than a long, drawn-out process.
This picture is from yesterday, as he snuggled under Blue's sweatshirt in the sun.
Here is what you should know about Hobbes: he was stubborn, he was orange, he liked to eat plastic bags. Sometimes I called him Threat Level because, you know, Threat Level Orange. He hissed and growled when we got him, more than any cat I've ever seen, and he didn't like to be messed with -- but when he relaxed, his whole body melted and went impossibly flat. He loved to crawl in the covers and lie under heisenbug's knees. He would drink from the bathroom sink, letting the water get all over his head, and then shake the water all over the place. And he was big on showing affection via head-butting, and by sitting on the crossword puzzle one wanted to solve or resting his chin on the laptop one was using. His head was soft, as soft as rabbit fur. We'll miss him.