- Joined
- Mar 29, 2021
- Messages
- 12
- Purraise
- 8
If anyone here has read my posts, you'll know I had 10 cats.
I now have nine.
They were a result of overbreeding from my in-laws, and while they're a lot of work and expense, they are one of the biggest lights in my life with their quirky personalities and hi-jinx.
One kitten who never got adopted was Mini. Her failed adopter told us she was too loud at night, crying and meowing. She was returned to us promptly, and she fell silent and snuggled up with our other cats. Mini was home, and I wasn't too upset that her adoption fell through.
Last week, I noticed she wasn't eating. She wasn't her usual vocal self - she would normally meow at you on sight and insist on belly rubs. She was quiet, subdued and hiding. She wasn't eating. My Mini wasn't herself. I got her some wet food she wouldn't touch. Strange, but she was in heat and maybe it was that. She was breathing fast, s- we took her to the emergency vet. They told us to bring her to our regular vet once morning came.
I put her on the floor of my room, hoping she could get some sleep. She jumped up, of her own accord, to give me a cuddle. She stayed cuddled up till morning came.
Our regular vet ran a litany of tests, x rays, and other things. Pyothorax. She'd need to be hospitalised. We couldn't afford it. The vet drained the fluid, and we were to monitor her for the rest of the week, giving her antibiotics and syringe feeding her to give her strength. Within an hour of getting her home, Mini was gone. My sweet, noisy baby was just gone. She was struggling for breath, trying to find a place to hide. She died terrified, gasping for air, and if I had just kept her hospitalised, if we could afford it, I don't know if this would have happened.
I miss her. Sometimes I catch glimpses of her mum - who looks just like her. For a second, just a spit second, I think it's Mini. I search for her stubby little tail, her little spots on her paws I kept thinking was dirt. It's not, of course. She was inquisitive, adorable, not a mean bone in her body. She needed me and I failed her, and it's so unfair. She was barely a year old. My sweet baby who just wanted to be close to me, and now she's gone.
I love you Mini. I hope I will see you in the hereafter. I hope kitty heaven is full of disgusting roaches for you to chase, and the stinkiest cat food you love so much. I hope there's lots of other kitties for you to snuggle up with, because I know you don't like sleeping all by yourself. Be a good girl till I can come get you.
I now have nine.
They were a result of overbreeding from my in-laws, and while they're a lot of work and expense, they are one of the biggest lights in my life with their quirky personalities and hi-jinx.
One kitten who never got adopted was Mini. Her failed adopter told us she was too loud at night, crying and meowing. She was returned to us promptly, and she fell silent and snuggled up with our other cats. Mini was home, and I wasn't too upset that her adoption fell through.
Last week, I noticed she wasn't eating. She wasn't her usual vocal self - she would normally meow at you on sight and insist on belly rubs. She was quiet, subdued and hiding. She wasn't eating. My Mini wasn't herself. I got her some wet food she wouldn't touch. Strange, but she was in heat and maybe it was that. She was breathing fast, s- we took her to the emergency vet. They told us to bring her to our regular vet once morning came.
I put her on the floor of my room, hoping she could get some sleep. She jumped up, of her own accord, to give me a cuddle. She stayed cuddled up till morning came.
Our regular vet ran a litany of tests, x rays, and other things. Pyothorax. She'd need to be hospitalised. We couldn't afford it. The vet drained the fluid, and we were to monitor her for the rest of the week, giving her antibiotics and syringe feeding her to give her strength. Within an hour of getting her home, Mini was gone. My sweet, noisy baby was just gone. She was struggling for breath, trying to find a place to hide. She died terrified, gasping for air, and if I had just kept her hospitalised, if we could afford it, I don't know if this would have happened.
I miss her. Sometimes I catch glimpses of her mum - who looks just like her. For a second, just a spit second, I think it's Mini. I search for her stubby little tail, her little spots on her paws I kept thinking was dirt. It's not, of course. She was inquisitive, adorable, not a mean bone in her body. She needed me and I failed her, and it's so unfair. She was barely a year old. My sweet baby who just wanted to be close to me, and now she's gone.
I love you Mini. I hope I will see you in the hereafter. I hope kitty heaven is full of disgusting roaches for you to chase, and the stinkiest cat food you love so much. I hope there's lots of other kitties for you to snuggle up with, because I know you don't like sleeping all by yourself. Be a good girl till I can come get you.
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