A Tribute to my Kitty
Feb. 28th, 2007 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bunchofgrapesSo tonight I said good-bye to a friend.
My kitty Emma was 18 1/2. I found her at my office building one morning after I'd offhandedly told a friend that I was thinking about getting another kitty. I already had Basil and he was used to being around multiple cats so a female would be a nice addition. Plus, I figured he'd like the company.
Well, what do my friend and I see not 5 minutes later but three kittens scamper through the ivy planters outside the office window. We immediately rushed outside and caught two of the kittens. I caught a female; Joetta caught a male. My kitten was a gray and black tabby with white paws and so small she could curl up in my hand. I took her home at lunch and of course she immediately ran and hid. She managed to get inside this old box spring I had and proceeded to yowl all night long. For such a small thing, she had ginormous lungs. The next day, as I was watching her run across the room, I noticed there was something wrong with one of her back legs. It looked as if it had been broken and then the bone just healed itself. I took her to the vet and they confirmed that's what had happened. They also said the only way to fix it was to re-break it and put it in a cast. So here's this little bitty kitten with these huge ears and a back leg in a cast that hung down like something sort of obscene. But that didn't stop her. She still managed to rocket across the room with that damn cast thumping along the way.
Emma was named for Emma Peel from The Avengers. There for a while I thought about naming her Eliza after Eliza Doolittle (My Fair Lady) because she was something of a guttersnipe but she was feisty and tough and definitely her own cat. She definitely lived up to her namesake but for a feral kitten, she was also a very sweet little girl--my Sweet Pea.
She and Basil were best buddies. Even though she was her own cat, he took care of her, always washing her face and ears, and when he passed away in 2002, she mourned him for two years. I know putting her to sleep tonight was the best thing I could do. I took her to the vet because she'd been throwing up a lot lately and I suspected she might have a tumor. Well, she had two tumors--one in her pancreas which was why she was throwing up, and another one near her heart. Plus one kidney had deteriorated and the other was enlarged. I decided after Basil that I wasn't going to put her through the torture of medication, especially at her age, when she's not going to gain anything but more time. And I don't think that time would be quality.
I was ready to make this decision tonight and I know it was the right decision (the vet absolutely agreed) but damn, it's still hard. I still have Sophie and Harry, who are not yet four, so that's a great comfort but you know, there's still this great void.
My kitty Emma was 18 1/2. I found her at my office building one morning after I'd offhandedly told a friend that I was thinking about getting another kitty. I already had Basil and he was used to being around multiple cats so a female would be a nice addition. Plus, I figured he'd like the company.
Well, what do my friend and I see not 5 minutes later but three kittens scamper through the ivy planters outside the office window. We immediately rushed outside and caught two of the kittens. I caught a female; Joetta caught a male. My kitten was a gray and black tabby with white paws and so small she could curl up in my hand. I took her home at lunch and of course she immediately ran and hid. She managed to get inside this old box spring I had and proceeded to yowl all night long. For such a small thing, she had ginormous lungs. The next day, as I was watching her run across the room, I noticed there was something wrong with one of her back legs. It looked as if it had been broken and then the bone just healed itself. I took her to the vet and they confirmed that's what had happened. They also said the only way to fix it was to re-break it and put it in a cast. So here's this little bitty kitten with these huge ears and a back leg in a cast that hung down like something sort of obscene. But that didn't stop her. She still managed to rocket across the room with that damn cast thumping along the way.
Emma was named for Emma Peel from The Avengers. There for a while I thought about naming her Eliza after Eliza Doolittle (My Fair Lady) because she was something of a guttersnipe but she was feisty and tough and definitely her own cat. She definitely lived up to her namesake but for a feral kitten, she was also a very sweet little girl--my Sweet Pea.
She and Basil were best buddies. Even though she was her own cat, he took care of her, always washing her face and ears, and when he passed away in 2002, she mourned him for two years. I know putting her to sleep tonight was the best thing I could do. I took her to the vet because she'd been throwing up a lot lately and I suspected she might have a tumor. Well, she had two tumors--one in her pancreas which was why she was throwing up, and another one near her heart. Plus one kidney had deteriorated and the other was enlarged. I decided after Basil that I wasn't going to put her through the torture of medication, especially at her age, when she's not going to gain anything but more time. And I don't think that time would be quality.
I was ready to make this decision tonight and I know it was the right decision (the vet absolutely agreed) but damn, it's still hard. I still have Sophie and Harry, who are not yet four, so that's a great comfort but you know, there's still this great void.
