I adopted Tar as an 11 months kitten from a friend who did rescue/adoption shortly after losing a tiny angel to wet-form FIP. I was looking for a kitten who would roll with the punches of a multi-cat family. Right away, my friend said, "Torie!" which was her name with her. So I made an appointment to see her.
She wasn't really what I was thinking of. She was almost an adult, of full size. I'd never thought about a tortoiseshell before, as I don't think I'd ever met one. But I knew she came very highly recommended, and most importantly, I knew she needed a loving permanent home. I could give that.
So she came home with us. We bought a new activity center right around that time, with a hammock up top and sisal uprights and a couple of platforms. She took to it right away. In a small house with a lot of cats, she fit right in. There was no acclimation process, no being in a separate room for two weeks, no hissing, no fighting, no ANYTHING.
She was the perfect kitten.
She was the perfect addition to our family at a time when I was bowed down with grief. Amiable, friendly, sweet, playful and calm, she was truly a rare treasure.
She never had any health issues. Not one. A couple of weeks ago, she stopped eating very much. The right side of her face seemed swollen. I attributed this to an upper respiratory thing, like a cold. As a completely indoor, always healthy cat in a low-stress household, I prayed and hoped she would recuperate quickly.
She seemed to. Her appetite returned. Her hygienic habits were always impeccable, and remained so. She spent most of her time in the office with me. I missed her presence beside my feet at night, but I wanted her to choose where to be and what to do.
A few days ago, she moved from the office to the living room, at the other end of the house. It's a huge room with a step down. She navigated it well every time. I would come and get her, and she'd wake up and come out to eat in the breakfast room instead of in the office. She almost always finished every bit.
My roomie slept on the sofa at times, and she said Tar would climb up there and sleep right next to her.
Yesterday, her eye looked very strange, like she had cherry eye. It was tearing a lot. My attempt to clean was refused. It was obviously painful. Early this morning I made an appointment.
I thought it would be a URI that could be cured with antibiotics, maybe steroids as well for the inflammation.
It was not to be.
The doctor took a look at her and immediately asked to sedate her, saying he was sure it was a tumor in her mouth.
He said her eye was "gone" and that it was incurable.
I had to put her before me. I've been here so many, many times. It never gets easier.
She was 17 years, 11 months, and 6 days on this earth. Seventeen of those years were spent with me, in three different locations.
Elvis, who loved her dearly, and Baby Su, who, if she liked any cat, liked Tar, will miss her very much. My roomies are very, very sad.
A part of my soul goes with her.
She wasn't really what I was thinking of. She was almost an adult, of full size. I'd never thought about a tortoiseshell before, as I don't think I'd ever met one. But I knew she came very highly recommended, and most importantly, I knew she needed a loving permanent home. I could give that.
So she came home with us. We bought a new activity center right around that time, with a hammock up top and sisal uprights and a couple of platforms. She took to it right away. In a small house with a lot of cats, she fit right in. There was no acclimation process, no being in a separate room for two weeks, no hissing, no fighting, no ANYTHING.
She was the perfect kitten.
She was the perfect addition to our family at a time when I was bowed down with grief. Amiable, friendly, sweet, playful and calm, she was truly a rare treasure.
She never had any health issues. Not one. A couple of weeks ago, she stopped eating very much. The right side of her face seemed swollen. I attributed this to an upper respiratory thing, like a cold. As a completely indoor, always healthy cat in a low-stress household, I prayed and hoped she would recuperate quickly.
She seemed to. Her appetite returned. Her hygienic habits were always impeccable, and remained so. She spent most of her time in the office with me. I missed her presence beside my feet at night, but I wanted her to choose where to be and what to do.
A few days ago, she moved from the office to the living room, at the other end of the house. It's a huge room with a step down. She navigated it well every time. I would come and get her, and she'd wake up and come out to eat in the breakfast room instead of in the office. She almost always finished every bit.
My roomie slept on the sofa at times, and she said Tar would climb up there and sleep right next to her.
Yesterday, her eye looked very strange, like she had cherry eye. It was tearing a lot. My attempt to clean was refused. It was obviously painful. Early this morning I made an appointment.
I thought it would be a URI that could be cured with antibiotics, maybe steroids as well for the inflammation.
It was not to be.
The doctor took a look at her and immediately asked to sedate her, saying he was sure it was a tumor in her mouth.
He said her eye was "gone" and that it was incurable.
I had to put her before me. I've been here so many, many times. It never gets easier.
She was 17 years, 11 months, and 6 days on this earth. Seventeen of those years were spent with me, in three different locations.
Elvis, who loved her dearly, and Baby Su, who, if she liked any cat, liked Tar, will miss her very much. My roomies are very, very sad.
A part of my soul goes with her.
We all will.
You are an amazing person, and i'm sure she had a wonderful life by your side. Your post made me tear up. Tar is resting peacefully now, and i'm sure she's taken many wonderful memories with her.
.
