Today, I said goodbye to my friend of seventeen years. I remember the day we got her. I was 15 when we adopted her. I was so excited, because my mother had finally said we could get a second cat and I wanted a kitten so bad. We agreed to go to shelters and meet cats, but... when we went to the first shelter, Isabel was in the "advertisement" box in the front and the moment I saw her big beautiful eyes, I knew I wanted her. My uncle had given me the money to adopt her for my birthday (and funnily enough, her birthday IS my Uncle's birthday)
The next day my mom took me back and we adopted her - the DAY before she was set to be put to sleep!! I almost cried knowing that we almost lost her. I was so relieved knowing she was coming home with us. This tiny little bundle of floof who loved to sleep in her hammock and swing herself to sleep.
She slept in weird positions, but her favorite was sleeping with her tongue sticking out.
And... on my shoes.
She became fast best friends with CiCi, who we lost in Feb of 2020. Cici's death is what brought me to this site. We adopted CiCi to keep Isabel company after Oliver passed away, but I had no idea they'd become such good friends. I like to think that CiCi was waiting on Rainbow Bridge with all of our other lost furrbabies. I hope her and Oliver both welcome Isabel back into their tribe and I hope Jack, our big redbone hound dog, is there to protect them like he did in life. He loved cats.
these last few months, we noticed she'd have dizzy and tired spells. I thought it was just old age... I feel so bad. She'd shake it off, so I'd think she was okay. Last night (this morning really, 12 AMish) I noticed she wasn't shaking it. I stayed up all night with her, because I felt it in my gut you know? That if I went to sleep.. I'd wake up and she'd be gone. So I stayed with her through the night, off and on checking on her, sitting with her. When I noticed her breathing becoming shallow... I just knew. We rushed her to the vet as soon as they opened and I held out hope that it would be something simple to treat like an infection but... that wasn't the case. The vet informed us that her heart was leaking fluids and her liver was failing. She wouldn't live through out the day. We decided of course to put her down, because what else could we do? I wasn't going to let my old girl suffer. And yet I still feel a raw pain knowing I made the choice to end her life... even if it was needed.
Part of her loss hurts, too, because not only was she with me for 17 years but she was the last living animal that my grandmother knew and loved (My grandmother passed away 15 years ago) and her last few months were joyful partly due to this little floofball.
Rest well, Isabel. I hope you know that I'll miss you absolutely every day. My heart is beyond broken.
The next day my mom took me back and we adopted her - the DAY before she was set to be put to sleep!! I almost cried knowing that we almost lost her. I was so relieved knowing she was coming home with us. This tiny little bundle of floof who loved to sleep in her hammock and swing herself to sleep.
She slept in weird positions, but her favorite was sleeping with her tongue sticking out.
And... on my shoes.
She became fast best friends with CiCi, who we lost in Feb of 2020. Cici's death is what brought me to this site. We adopted CiCi to keep Isabel company after Oliver passed away, but I had no idea they'd become such good friends. I like to think that CiCi was waiting on Rainbow Bridge with all of our other lost furrbabies. I hope her and Oliver both welcome Isabel back into their tribe and I hope Jack, our big redbone hound dog, is there to protect them like he did in life. He loved cats.
these last few months, we noticed she'd have dizzy and tired spells. I thought it was just old age... I feel so bad. She'd shake it off, so I'd think she was okay. Last night (this morning really, 12 AMish) I noticed she wasn't shaking it. I stayed up all night with her, because I felt it in my gut you know? That if I went to sleep.. I'd wake up and she'd be gone. So I stayed with her through the night, off and on checking on her, sitting with her. When I noticed her breathing becoming shallow... I just knew. We rushed her to the vet as soon as they opened and I held out hope that it would be something simple to treat like an infection but... that wasn't the case. The vet informed us that her heart was leaking fluids and her liver was failing. She wouldn't live through out the day. We decided of course to put her down, because what else could we do? I wasn't going to let my old girl suffer. And yet I still feel a raw pain knowing I made the choice to end her life... even if it was needed.
Part of her loss hurts, too, because not only was she with me for 17 years but she was the last living animal that my grandmother knew and loved (My grandmother passed away 15 years ago) and her last few months were joyful partly due to this little floofball.
Rest well, Isabel. I hope you know that I'll miss you absolutely every day. My heart is beyond broken.