Today, (last night) we had to put our sweet kitty, Chloe down. We knew she was suffering, but not how much. We changed vets because the last one just kept changing her diet and she kept throwing up or refusing the food altogether. We got to where we wanted her to eat something and kept hoping that the next thing we’d try would work and make her better, but nothing did. We learn she had extreme kidney failure. So, we let her go.
We bawled like little kids, but stayed with her til her heart was no longer beating. She died peacefully with me stroking her head. Hubby kneeled beside her and kissed her head goodbye.
All this taking place on the patio at the vets on a blanket on the floor. Because of Covid-19, the only ones allowed in the vets office were pets. We had to be out on the patio or in our cars.
It is what it is.
We knew she was starting to fail, but when I dug up these pictures, I could see it showed, from the lackluster in her eyes, and the lackluster of her coat. These photos are fairly recent, so we thought maybe not that long. Unfortunately, the vet reminded us that cat and human time is different, so perhaps in cat years, it was longer than we imagined.
Of late the non lap cat, became a lap cat, always climbing up to be near us and in this case, hubby’s tummy or the crook of his arm.
Given that I’d been preoccupied with my sister’s failing health, Chloe pretty much took a backseat. I wished I’d been more aware. The vet, trying to be consoling, did say, “it’s hard to know sometimes”.
When I told the family, they sent their regrets. She’d been with our family since she was a kitten. She would have been 18 this fall. The kids would share a memory about her. One of them said, they “will always remember her chasing that golden retriever down the street”, and she did, her feet hardly touching the ground, looking almost airborne as she ran after that big dog. My niece loved her crooked ear, the result of an encounter with a huge, yellow tabby she was trying to rid our backyard of. Unfortunately, she was a 3/4 cat and he twice her size. He won. When the cone was removed, her ear had healed crookedly.
When we moved from Alabama to here, she handled the drive marvelously sitting on the dash of my car most of the way. When we flew her to Tennessee, she didn’t fair as well. From Grand Junction to Denver, she howled unmercifully and defecated, stinking up the whole cabin. Fortunately, it was a short flight and the layover in Denver was long enough that I could bathe her in the sink and clean her up. The remainder of the flight went fine.
Hubby wrote a fitting eulogy on Facebook with the above photo announcing her demise to our friends.
“Chloe and I had a great run of 18 years that ended today. She was a most excellent blend of feisty, cuddly, ornery, loving. grumpy, mean, and playful. In other words, a typical cat. Gonna miss the old girl!”
What he doesn’t say is, they had a routine. A special bond. She would wait for him in the bedroom each evening before going to bed and he would throw his dirty t-shirt on her and they would wrestle. She’d growl and he’d toss her about for a couple of minutes and then she’d purr. If he delayed going to bed, she’d come and get him. Towards the end, play was less rough and finally just the t-shirt on her and his hands on either side, a few sweet nothings and a kiss. She never stopped looking for it though.
Even though these two didn’t get along, cold weather brought them somewhat together. We lost him last July. Picture taken the year before. Now that I see these pictures, I notice now how the serious decline was recent and not as far back as I’d imagined.
From her injured leg, to her hiding place and her gifts. She will live forever in our hearts.
Bye Chloe. May there be a special place for you, a heaven or wherever cats go. You were our special kitty. I’m so glad you were in our life. You will be missed.