Lucy unexpectedly died this morning, December 29, 2016, of heart failure. She was just 10 years old. As you can see in this photo taken just a few days ago, I had no clue something was wrong with her until I went looking for her this morning.
Lucy could only breath with great effort, and her vocalizations made it quite clear she was distressed. I rushed her to the vet, and he gave Lucy some medicine to drain the fluid in her lungs, but the fluid came back and she relapsed. Her heart had failed her.
I first met her back in 2010 when she was already about 5 years old. One day I heard a cat yapping outside and I wondering what was going on. She was yapping at a bug, a bird, or something. Apparently though, she liked to talk.
I could see she was rather thin, so I felt sorry her. I could tell she was curious about me, but was a bit too afraid to let me get close to her. She was happy to eat whatever I left for her though, as soon as I backed off.
Soon her curiosity conquered her fear and we became buddies. I already had three other cats at the time, so I was a bit hesitant to take her in. However, she made instant friends with Daryl, but Ms. Kitty and Princess weren't convinced yet.
I let Lucy inside from time to time and soon all the cats came to accept her. I had been letting her in and out, but one day I realized I hadn't let her out in a few days and she hadn't complained, so I didn't bother letting her out anymore.
She went from a skinny cat to one that was quite chunky. Eating was her favorite activity.
After Ms. Kitty died, who needed as much food as possible, I began reducing the amount of feed Lucy could eat.
Lucy didn't seem to mind being the only cat for a few months. She certainly liked the extra attention she received the last few months of being the only kitty.
Her death this morning was a complete surprise. I had no idea her heart was failing, and even if I did, according to what I've read, there's nothing I could have done to make her better.
Once again I'm forced to say goodbye. Goodbye my affectionate friend!
For the third year in a row, I lost another cat. The last two years, I've lost cats around April 28th. After May turned into June, I thought I would escape a loss this year, but I was wrong. On August 31st, I lost my bed buddy Princess. Princess was the last of three kittens born to a neighbor's cat next door named Dottie. She was a few days shy of 14 years old. I want to put down what I remember what I can about her now so I can read this again occasionally as the years go by to remind myself of what she was like.
Princess was the last surviving of three kittens born 14 years ago by Dottie, a neighbor's cat. Unfortunately, the neighbors ignored the kittens, so I took pity on them. I already told this part of her story in her brother's memorial so I won't repeat it here.
Princess favorite toys were anything stringy, like shoe strings or even USB cables. Back in the inkjet days, she was printer attack cat.
My laser printer never got her excited for some reason.
She had a bit of a temper, especially at meal time. She would get cranky with her brother, and he'd just take it. When Daryl died last year, she tried her temper on Lucy, my remaining cat, but not nearly as often as she did on her brother.
I kept hearing how cats like boxes, so one day I found a basket left at the recycling center. I took it home in hopes of them would adopt it. As it turns out, only Princess took an interest in it and even then only occasionally.
When I came home from work or elsewhere, Princess would often be on top of the cat tree napping in the window. She waited for me to get close to the door, then disappear toward the back of the house, then head back like she wasn't waiting for me.
Anytime I laid down on the bed, even just to read, Princess would be there too within a few minutes. In the morning, she'd hear me moving around. Sometimes she'd wait for me to notice her, then she'd jump up on the bed. Other times, she'd just skip the wait and jump up. At night, she would stick around until I turned the light off. If I didn't pay enough attention, according to her, she'd give me head bumps until she got her fill.
She liked to sit on things I laid down on my furniture or dropped on the floor. Like these shopping bags I put on the chair back in January I was planning on putting in the car. She found another purpose for them:
Three years ago Princess began losing weight. Tests showed abnormal. Over the past three years, she dropped from 14 pounds to 10, to 8, to 7, to 6, then to 5lbs.
Tests ran just a few weeks ago showed her liver reading was slightly high, but within normal range, and all other readings were normal. But ultrasound a few days later showed hepatic lipidosis, or fatty liver disease. She wasn't eating enough, and her body was consuming itself, and clogging the liver with fat. By this time, she was already too weak from the weight loss to run a feeding tube into her stomach. The vet was skeptical she would live much longer.
I decided to syringe feed her myself. You only get one life, and I wanted to save hers if possible. I bought the highest calorie cat food I could find, added water to it until soupy, and fed her by syringe. She didn't like being fed this way, and I didn't want to do it either, but it was her only chance.
But my efforts were for nothing. She was rapidly losing more weight, despite all the feedings I was giving her per day. When I came home on August 31st, she could barely move, and it was clear she wasn't going to get better.
I buried her next to her brother, and with a shoe string, her favorite toy. She was the last of three kittens, and I find that incredibly sad. I does make me feel a bit better to know she and her brothers had a much better life than she likely would have had if I had done nothing.
When I come home now, Princess won't be in the window. When I lay in bed, she won't be coming. When I wake up in the morning, she won't be there to greet me. I definitely miss her.
I didn't take as many photos and videos of Princess as I should have, but I what I do have I'll cherish forever.
Another year, another cat. A year and a month after I lost Ms. Kitty, today I lost my another treasured companion, Daryl, to lymphoma. He was 13 years old. I want to put down what I remember about him now so I can read this again on occasion as the years go by to remind myself of what he was like.
One of my next door neighbors in 2002 (since moved) had a cat named Dotty. Dotty had three kittens, and these next door neighbors ignored them. She's probably gone by now, but here she is greeting Daryl on my back porch in 2003.
Daryl had a brother and a sister. The brother I named Larry. I named Daryl and his brother Larry after the three brothers Larry, Darryl, and the other brother Darryl on the popular 80s sitcom Newhart. Princess was named because Ms. Kitty was the queen of the house, so she had to be the princess.
To gain the kittens trust, I first gained the trust of their mother, Dottie. At first when I approached her, she'd walk calmly but deliberately to the fence, jump it, then turn around. She's permit me to walk up to the fence and pet her. Eventually she decided I was ok and would come toward me instead of away when I came outside to check on them. The three kittens followed her lead, except Daryl for a while but I won him over too in time.
Larry liked to lay in the street, and that made his life a short one unfortunately. Too bad, because Larry was a fearless sweetie. Here's Daryl and Larry in my front yard near the neighbor's fence:
The only to tell them apart by looking at them was by their differing eye color. Larry was not shy, but Daryl was very much shy. This made it easy to tell them apart.
His sister is Princess, still in good health and cancer free (as far as I know).
Daryl and his sister Princess would join Ms. Kitty in the house I shared with my mom back then.
Daryl, like his sister, loved to go after shoe strings.
Even near the end when Daryl was hurting, he could still be persuaded to play that that shoestring.
He never cared to chase lasers for some reason.
He slept a lot like most cats do, and he'd go crazy at times, also like most cats do.
Most of the time he didn't care for me giving him hugs and smooches. He would put on his disgust face and run away. But he could also be very affectionate when it was his idea.
Whenever I'd go to pet him, he'd dip his ears. I have a video of him doing that I may add sometime.
He never liked being held, even when he was a kitten. That made taking him to the vet an interesting challenge some years. I was so proud of myself in August 2012 I made a video of that year's triumph.
Since he hated to be picked up, I had to tease him by extending my arms like I was going to pick him just to watch him take off.
He was scared of thunderstorms, unlike his sister.
He loved to chew up sheets of paper into little itty bitty bits and spit them back out.
During his last yearly visit, the blood work on his showed that he had hyperthyroidism, a disease more common in older cats. My vet referred me to Radiocat, a veterinary practice specializing in treating hyperthyroidism in cats.
In my area, this practice visits Upstate Veterinary Specialists in Greenville, SC once a month. After having my vet run the required tests and X-rays and send them to Radiocat, I had to do was drop off Daryl, pay the rather large fee (about $1100), and come back after the waiting period to ensure he wasn't radioactive. I had him treated in early December 2014.
After he came home, I had to use flushable litter, and ensure he wasn't around either pregnant women or children for about a week.
When I let him out of the cage when he came home, I noticed he had a slight limp but thought nothing of it at the time. Just after Christmas 2014, I noticed he held up his paw and would avoid walking on it. When he did walk on it, I could see it buckle like it couldn't hold weight. I thought maybe his sister Princess got cranky again and took yet another swipe at him and injured him. I made an appointment with my vet.
The vet saw no signs of injury. He took a biopsy, and the results came back as lymphoma. My buddy boy had cancer.
I took him to the oncology specialists at Upstate Veterinary Specialists who decided amputation of the affected front paw was the surest and best option. The surgery was in early February. A checkup by them a month later in March showed "all clear". I was told to come back in a few months for a more detailed checkup.
In April, about the time Daryl was due for his cancer checkup, I noticed he wasn't eating well. Oops! I forgot he had a bad tooth! The tooth couldn't be taken care of because the surgery involved anesthesia, and anesthesia is too risky on a cat with a hyperthyroid condition. I took him to see the vet and schedule surgery for the tooth.
Imagine my surprise when my vet told me the cancer had returned, this time in his neck. Oh great. I went ahead and had his tooth problem fixed because a cat that can't eat isn't worth saving. The vet performed the first round of chemo after Daryl recovered from the surgery.
The first round of chemo did a good job of reducing the lymphoma. However, the followup treatments just slowed down the lymphoma's spread and the lump got bigger again.
A few days ago, his breathing became raspy and he stopped eating. The growing lymphoma in his neck must have made eating too painful. He began losing weight rapidly. On May 14th he weighed 11 lbs. Last Wednesday he weighed 10lbs. This morning he weighed 9lbs. He was done.
Today he was scheduled for this next round of chemo with a different drug. Instead he was put out of his misery.
Sleep well my clothes basket loving furry friend. I will miss you. You will live on through my photos and videos my little shy guy.
One week ago today, April 28, and at the same time as this is posted, I lost my oldest and dearest cat, Ms Kitty, to liver failure. She was my first cat, and at 17 years (about 84 in human years) she had lived a long life. She would have been 18 in October. I have a lousy memory, so I’m putting down what I can remember about her now before my memory of her fades away. Maybe in this small way she can live for a while longer.
In 1996, sometime during autumn I believe, I turned on the front light and stepped out to add some garbage to the garbage can. Garbage pickup would be the next morning. At the time, my mother and I loved together in the same house I still live in now. As I stepped out, I spotted something orange quickly zip back between our cars. I said something like, "Come on out! I see you!" Out trotted a small, orange kitten.
This kitten wouldn't let me get too close to it, but at the same time wouldn't go too far away from me either. Over the next few weeks, I remember being able to pet this kitten sometimes, but other times this kitten would play keep away. The kitten, a she it turned out, hung out across the street in front of a house.
My mom figured maybe the people at this house were taking care of her. But it soon became clear they were not. So we started leaving cat food out for her. She happily ate it. She continued her pattern of letting me pet her sometimes and not letting touch her at other times. This was frustrating until I made a discovery.
One time when she wouldn't let me touch her I began walking down my street. She followed me at a small distance. I kept going, peeking back to see what she'd do. As if there were some invisible boundary, she stopped at a neighbor's property line and would go no further. I puzzled at this strange behavior, turned around and walked back. She waited, then followed. I had her on an invisible leash!
At some point, I decided to see what she'd do if I let her in the house. She checked the place out for a while. When she was satisfied, she jumped up on my mom's bed, made herself comfy, and fell asleep. When mom came home, I hurriedly put kitty out the back door because I didn't how her napping on mom's bed would go over.
The wooden fence in the backyard has a gap from a tree growing up between one of the slats. She'd slip through it, climb partway up the tree, then look back and meow as if to say, "is this ok?".
As she got a bit older, she came into heat. She'd go around chirping and seeking mates. It was time to take action. We took her to get neutered and she got her shots. She was now ours.
Mom named her Ms Kitty. I just called her Kitty.
She was more fortunate than we realized at the time. Those people in the house across the street kept dogs in their yard. I noticed over the years those dogs had a tendency to escape. It was only much later after my mom moved out that I found out they didn't bother feeding their dogs. I'm not a dog person at all (spend a few nights with me and you'll find out why), but that really disturbed me.
For a while, we let her in and out. She would sit and nap in some strange places. This photo was taken with an early digital camera my mom had. I don't have the original, but I do have this image I scanned from a print.
The internet would later show me other cats slept in weird places too.
Kitty loved to climb up the tall trees in front of one of my neighbor's house. She'd rocket up one, back her way back down, then rocket up another one. Most of those tall trees had to be cut down because the insurance company complained for some reason.
Kitty chased after a bee once and got stung for her effort. I think that paw remained swollen for a week or so.
Kitty certainly loved the autumn leaves.
I remember sitting outside with Kitty. She would explore nearby a bit, then she'd come back periodically and touch her nose to me. Then go off and explore a bit more.
When Kitty wanted inside, she would jump up on the front screen door. The loud racket would alert us, one of us would open the door, and she'd come on in.
Kitty seemed to have an irrational hatred of UPS trucks for some reason. Whenever one was close by, she'd demand to be let in, then growl at the truck.
After a few years, Kitty figured out how to catch birds efficiently. She'd nap in the front bushes, and when a bird came along she'd pounce. This didn't work for me because I had to bury them. She also got to the point where she didn't want to come in very much. This also didn't work for me. She became an indoor cat whether she wanted to or not. She quit asking to go out eventually.
Later, we'd take in two more neglected cats (siblings and still with me) from another neighbor.
I loved her intelligence. She figured out she could open almost closed doors just by standing up and leaning. She figured out the annoying monster in the bed sheets was my hand when she bite the monster, moved her bites up the arm, and then notice I was attached to it. She didn't take the bait after that.
Kitty loved to dive under bed sheets until we took in the two other cats a few years later. One of them would see the lump moving and "attack". Kitty would hiss and run off. She stayed on top of the bed after that.
During the warmer months, I get up in the morning and chances are she'd be in the front window catching the morning sun. During the cooler months, she'd be in my bedroom catching the afternoon sun, and watching the shadows cast by the leaves moving outside.
This gave me the idea to see how she'd like a laser. Turned out she liked it just fine.
The first sign of trouble with Kitty came at her routine exam when she was 11 or 12. She had lost weight. At her next checkup, she had lost weight again. Tests would show her kidney's were weakening. The vet said there was no cure, no treatment. I compensated as best I could by feeding her bigger portions and more often than the other cats.
Kitty did drink more water than the other cats, likely due to her kidney condition. But she liked her water as fresh as possible. I'd refill one water bowl and she'd drink out of it. While she was busy with that water bowl, I'd take the other water bowl, refill it with fresh water, place it back, and she'd switch away from that nasty, stale, seconds old water.
About two or three years ago, she got sick and wouldn't eat for a few days. She got better. But at her next routine exam, her weight was way down. I fed her even more. She gained back some weight. but I had to feed her much more than the others. She also drank much more water than the others. At her last exam in November 2013, she managed to gain a bit more weight.
When people ring my doorbell or knock on the door, the cats always run and hide. Kitty did the same thing too, even when my mom came over. She stopped the hiding routine a few months ago. She'd just stay put. I thought she did that because she now knew it was no big deal. Now I think it because her kidneys or other parts were giving out. At least it gave my mom an opportunity to see Kitty a few weeks before she passed.
Just a few days ago, in late April, she suddenly stopped eating and stopped drinking. Something was wrong, very wrong. I stayed up with her all night Sunday night comforting her, but by Monday morning she was in bad shape. I called the vet's office as soon as they opened and made an early appointment.
I took my tablet with me to take notes on what's to be done to save her. Right away, the vet noticed her liver had failed. He became grim and said he could only add a few days or a week to her life at best. A heart wrenching decision had to be made, and I had to make it. I think I made the right call, but I still feel rotten about it. It still hurts like heck. I took a photo to mark her last moment, then she was gone. The visit lasted all of 15 minutes at most. If the vet could have promised her a few more months or a year, I would have told him to do it, the wallet is open. I would be willing to eat nothing but noodles and crackers for a time if that's what it took to pay for her treatment. But that's not what happened.
Like I said, I'm writing this down here because I will forget. But now I'll have these words here to read again sometime and not forget.I posted most of my photos of her to Flickr and to Google Photos. Most are public . That way, I'll have a backup in case my hard drive, or my offline backups fail.
Kitty gave me 17 years of joy, and for that I'm thankful. I had hoped she make it to 20, but that wasn't meant to be. This home is not the same without her. I also can't help but think of all the relatives I've lost forever in the last 17 years, and of all the other changes too.
My other cats (the two siblings) are 12 years old, or about 64 in human years according my online sources. May it be a long time before I have to for mourn them too.
Welcome! The idea for this blog is document thoughts, adventures, and other things I especially want to remember that would be off-topic at my modestly successful other blog, Outdoors Adventures in South Carolina.
Actually, a big reason for this blog is you can't mix text and photos on Google+ and Facebook like you can here.
I'm planning to post to this blog only a few times a year. You can use the RSS feed buttons also on the right sidebar should you feel the need to keep up-to-date.
I'm not planning on enabling Google+ comments here or on any other of my blogs. I won't help Google force Google+ on people. Sorry Google.
