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Farewell Cat
Dec. 15th, 2011 09:49 pm21 years is a very good run for a cat. For the last couple of years, Angel has been spending most of the time on her heating pad with regular excursions for food and foot-rubs. (I.e., she rubs; my feet.) But though she was clearly an old lady cat, she was in more or less stable health. This week, that changed. (Short version, probable digestive obstruction, but with other minor long-term issues including probably kidney misfunction.) After several days close observation, I decided it was time and took her on the one-way trip. It felt a little premature ... but then, with previous aged cats I know I've left it later than it should have been. I had a certain amount of self-pressure due to the upcoming holiday trip and not wanting to leave hard decisions to a cat-sitter. The folks at the vet's office were great. I came in all prepared to be defensive about my decision and the doctor said, "You know your cat. If you say it's time, it's time."
I spent the last hour sorting through items to be freecycled (canned food, unopened bag of dry food, unused litter, absorbent pads, recirculating water fountain after I sanitize it) and items to be trashed (box, opened food, grooming equipment, opened health supplies) and cleaning up the inhabited areas (including several stains, curtesy of this week's decline).
It's going to be a little strange not having a cat after 40 years of continuous cattedness but I'm not planning to get another one at the moment.
She was a good cat. She came to me with the name Angel and a reputation for an unfortunate fondness for small furry creatures (that were supposed to be fellow residents). In honor of that, I decided her secret true name was Melangell, after the Welsh saint whose fondness for small furry creatures was much more benign.
I spent the last hour sorting through items to be freecycled (canned food, unopened bag of dry food, unused litter, absorbent pads, recirculating water fountain after I sanitize it) and items to be trashed (box, opened food, grooming equipment, opened health supplies) and cleaning up the inhabited areas (including several stains, curtesy of this week's decline).
It's going to be a little strange not having a cat after 40 years of continuous cattedness but I'm not planning to get another one at the moment.
She was a good cat. She came to me with the name Angel and a reputation for an unfortunate fondness for small furry creatures (that were supposed to be fellow residents). In honor of that, I decided her secret true name was Melangell, after the Welsh saint whose fondness for small furry creatures was much more benign.
