Very sad day

The PDX pride mommy writes:

I have very sad news.  Last night, we had to say goodbye to Tabby.  She was down to just under 6 lbs., had advanced dementia, and was falling off the places she chose to sleep.  Last night, she could barely get to her favorite recliner and then was very disoriented so she only stayed on her daddy's lap for a few minutes before coming in and climbing shakily onto my lap.  It was time.  We all said our goodbyes at home, then we harnessed her up for one last car ride.  She watched out the windows and knew where we were once we got to the vet, but then became disoriented again when we were carrying her into the building.  She fell asleep gently while air-kneading just before 10:30 pm, then was given the final shot and passed peacefully.  The above picture was taken while waiting for the vet to come in with the shots.  She looks worried because she was so disoriented that she didn't really know quite why I would be taking a picture of her there.

We brought her body home and buried her in the yard by her brother, Carbon.  The others got the chance to sniff her body and say goodbye once again if they wanted to.  The twins and Starla declined, but the others came over to pay their respects.  This was Shadow's first time dealing with death, and he still isn't quite sure what happened, but the others are helping him.  He gently touched her body with his paw, then lay down next to the box that held it.

Thank you for all the love you have shown our girl over the years.

Fly free, sweet Missy!

Missy, we don't know what went wrong or what exactly happened, but we know you were suffering and so we made the only decision possible.  Yesterday morning, you let the dog visiting us sniff you.  A couple hours later, we found bloody diarrhea and two solid lumps of something on the floor, with a tail trail under your daddy's dresser.  Rori went under to be with you for a little while.  Panther, Dare, and Autumn all said their goodbyes once you decided to come out of hiding, while Mommy cleaned up the floor and also cleaned you up as best she could.  You had tried, but you just didn't have the energy anymore.  Mommy sat with you and told you that it would be ok if you felt the need to leave us.  You were barely hanging on at that point.  Daddy came in and petted you for a while, then called the vet.  Our usual vet was very busy, and we knew this was an emergency, so he called the vet just down the street, too.  They were available, so Daddy put you in the carrier and he and Mommy took you to the vet.

Once there, they took you immediately into the back to stabilize you the best they could.  You were still hanging on, but barely.  The vet and vet techs were so kind to you.  They wrapped you in warm blankets and gave you fluids through an IV.  They tried to take your blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate, but the levels were not perceptible or only just perceptible.  Your heartbeat was a soft flutter.  The vet, Daddy, and Mommy knew what needed to be done, although nobody wanted to say goodbye to you this soon.  Your blood vessels were collapsing in on themselves and the vet thought that there must've been a mass on your intestines that burst.

Mommy went in the back to say goodbye.  Daddy sat and cried and Mommy cried and petted you.  You were barely conscious, and going quickly.  The vet gave you the first shot (anesthetic) and your chin immediately hit your paws.  You didn't really need the second (actual) shot, but the vet  gave it to you just to be sure.  Mommy knew you were gone already.  The vet tried to find your heartbeat but you were gone.

Mommy went to be with Daddy, and they cried for a while.  The vet brought your body in to them, and they brought you home.  Daddy dug a hole while Mommy opened the box for the rest of us to see your body.  We all knew already.  Autumn doesn't really know what death means, though, but she sniffed you and wondered why you were in a box.  She thought it was weird that you didn't respond, so she sniffed you again.  Panther sniffed you, looked you all over, touched noses with Autumn, and left the room.  Mommy brought Tabby out to see.  The others decided not to come over to sniff, because goodbyes had been said already.  Daddy opened the box and lifted your body out gently, petted it, talked to you, then set your body in the hole and covered it with dirt and a cinder block to keep raccoons away.

Your body is buried by the roses in the backyard, where we buried Miss Marble and close to where we buried Carbon.  You always loved flowers.  We will never forget you, our idiosyncratic non-feral feral who knew where to go and what to do when she needed help.  You did the first time we met you, and you did the last time we saw you alive.

Missy was between 8 and 9 years old, as near as we can figure.  She came to us at the age of approximately 2 1/2 years old and was Daddy Scott's constant companion and chief snuggler.  It took her a year to purr for him, but then she didn't stop.  She tried to climb in coat sleeves when she got petted, but would bite if she felt it was too much.  We love you, and we always will.  You are at peace now, Missy, and out of pain.

Saying Goodbye to Grandma

This is one of our favorite pictures of Grandma.  That's who the little girl was in our Wordless Wednesday post this week!  Grandma was Mommy's mommy, and she was living with us for the last 7 months.  She died of cancer on August 8th, so we're very sad about that.  There have been a lot of changes around here lately, things moving around, people coming in and out, meeting new people who are relatives whom we've never seen before, and different schedules.

Our purrents say we're a houseful of therapy cats, which is a good thing!  Having Tabby in our family has taught us all to be mindful of our purrents' emotions and behaviors, so when they first heard the news, we all offered ourselves to be petted and to purr for them.  Grandpa (Mommy's dad, who was divorced from Grandma ages ago) came over and immediately got three lap-sitters!  We've all been extremely snuggly and attentive to Mommy and Daddy and social with other people who have come by to offer help and condolences.

Heimdall was the closest to Grandma, and became her "furry doctor".  He would sneak into her room to do his rounds, walking under the desk, then around to check out underneath the hospital bed, then walk to the far wall and look up at her when she was lying in bed.  Then, most of the time, he'd go under the rocking chair and have to be caught to be taken out of the room.  If Grandma was in the rocking chair, he'd go over to her for pets.  None of us could be on Grandma's lap, because she had cancer and so her immune system was compromised by the chemo and radiation.  After she died, Heimdall went in to do his rounds and was very concerned when he didn't see her on the bed.  He hopped up onto the bed and immediately shrunk because he could tell she hadn't been there for a week.  She had been in the hospital for a few days before she died, so by the time Heimdall went into her room it had been almost two weeks since she'd last slept in her bed.  Heimdall immediately let Mommy pick him up and snuggle him, then Freya came over to lick him on the head when he was set in the hallway.  He still pulls on Grandma's door at least twice a day, hoping that she'll reappear.

Tabby is the only one of us who knew that humans could die.  She'd encountered death smells and "not there" smells, as well as ministered to dying friends on her visits, so she's been trying to help the rest of us through this.  However, without direct experience, it's hard for us to visualize one of our people being "not there".  It's a different "not there" than when fosters have been adopted.  This "not there" leaves an empty place that's sad, instead of a happy-sad one, and we don't like it.

Mommy let us smell the death smells on Grandma's things when they were retrieved from the hospital, but that only helped a little.  Human death smells, while similar, are still different enough from kitty death smells that we don't know if what we smelled really was a death smell.  Our purrents say it was, but we can't be sure.  All we know is that our third purrson is missing from our lives.

We love you, Grandma!  We miss you very much, and wish you were here to give us leg pets and hand pets, knit blankets for us, and tell us how much you love us, too.  If you were here, Heimdall would purr his best motorboat purr for you!  We know you are at the Bridge, so we will see you again.  We hope your spirit will come visit us like the spirits of our furry family members Skylar and Spooky.

Stephanie Thompson

July 20, 1948 to

August 8, 2014