I have cats. I have always had cats. I'm what you would call a cat person. Today, I had to put down a cat. It fuckin' sucked and I'm not taking it well.
Our cat Cookie (named before Gam named his dog that) was almost 11 years old. Earlier this year she was diagnosed with hyperthyroid, which is common in older cats. We didn't do anything about it at first but a couple months later, circa July, she stopped eating and started losing weight. I can pinpoint it around the time Titette asked us to keep their dog, Nirvana, while she and her girlfriend went to Nashville for a trip. That's not a problem. We have a dog now too (named Mona) and Mona and Nirvana like to frolic and do dog things in the backyard. Nirvana is a 1-2 year old German Shepherd mix, which means she's big and she's got big dog energy. She didn't have much experience with cats, and when she saw one, she'd run for it and the cats would naturally freak the fuck out. I never thought the dog meant any harm and she never caught them, but if she ever did, she would've just roughhoused with them. Mona is a Spaniel mix and about cat sized and Nirvana often tramples her ass when they run around together, but Mona fights back because she's made of scrap iron. Nirvana just doesn't know how to reign it in with smaller animals. She's kinda dumb but doesn't mean any harm.
Anyhoo, while Nirvana was staying at the house, we sequestered the cats into an upstairs area with sole access to a few rooms with plenty of places to sleep and hang out. A food and water station was created and we gave them a separate place to shit. My work area is in this upstairs section so they also got plenty of social time. But after hours, after I'd go downstairs for the evening, they'd sometimes jump the barrier and explore. One night Cookie came down and was heading for her normal feeding area in the kitchen, and Nirvana saw her and chased her and scared the bejeebers out of her. Seriously, there was a bejeeber trail all the way up the stairs. Cookie made it to safety but I think a switch flipped in her brain.
We didn't notice until a couple weeks later but she started losing weight and realized we never saw her eating the food we put out for her and the others. A cat who won't eat won't live long but add the hyperthyroid and trouble is a-brewing. We got some meds for her thyroid and started feeding her wet food, but she'd eat some and leave a lot, sometimes even turning her nose up to it completely. Blood work was done at the vet and the meds were working, but she wasn't eating enough to put meat back on her bones. She would lick the gravy from the wet food and leave the chunkier bits, not getting enough nutrients. She was heading downhill. Weight loss is first. Organ failure is next.
Monday was a good day, but Tuesday she didn't eat in the morning. I checked on her after work and she was a mess. Awkward hunched posture and dilated eyes. Hypertension may have caused vision problems. She wouldn't eat, and while she took an interest in a bowl of water, she stuck a paw in it but wouldn't drink. She was anti-social and finding quiet places to hide as animals do when their time is running out.
I texted the kids and they came home last night to say their goodbyes. We've had to put down animals before but everyone was much more emotional with Cookie. Everyone loved her. Even people who hate cats loved her. I have other cats that you'd hate if you're a cat hater, but Cookie would win you over. She was a beautiful shorthair with calico fur, really pretty and she kept herself well-groomed. For a few years, some extra heft kept her from getting her asshole clean as a whistle, but she tried. She was outgoing and would talk back to you when you spoke to her. She had lots or personality and she loved to cuddle. And she was smart enough to grab things with her paws. She was an opposable thumb away from using tools and fucking shit up.
She survived the night last night. I was hoping she'd go on her own, but she didn't. I made a late morning appointment with the vet. The kids were there to attend. As I mentioned, we've put other animals down before, and I've always been the one who had to keep focused while everyone else could emote. I can't count how many times I got verklempt today. It's been hitting me hard. Maybe it's guilt from feeling like I could've done more for her. Maybe it's because she was only 10. (I had a cat who lived to 19 once.) Whatever it is, I truly loved that cat. She was my friend and I'm gonna miss her. Shit, there I go again all verklempt. We're having a party at the house this Saturday. Gonna pour one out for her. You're all invited.
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