It was with an incredibly sad heart that I said a sudden farewell to my almost 11-year-old cat Pippin last week. Before I left for work around lunch he was chasing me around the living room, and when I came home in the late afternoon he was well into heart failure. He was crouched at the bottom of the stairs where he rarely greets me and instead of following me up like he usually does, he meowed loudly and repeatedly. I checked him and he was barely able to use his hind legs and his breathing was gurgly sounding. I knew right then that he was in serious trouble and probably wouldn't be coming home once we walked out the door. I packed him up to his vet and after a quick exam and xray they got him into an oxygen cage where he improved a bit, but not enough to make recovery even remotely unlikely. They brought me back as soon as they got him to the cage and parked me in front of him to help keep him calm while they talked me through things. Pippin was a feisty boy who normally would have had to be sedated for any of that, but he didn't have much fight in him.
I had no choice but to let him go. I was so thankful that our own vet was there as she knew him and handled him in a way that was the least distressing for him. I also appreciated that she had prepared me for this, having told me previously that because of his temperament if he ever had a serious condition he wouldn't be a good candidate for more intensive levels of treatment. I always knew if anything ever happened I would need to be ready to say goodbye quickly. It made that decision one tiny bit easier.
Pippin was the cat I never intended to have. I loved cats as a girl, but had very severe allergies to animals (and a bunch of other stuff). I went through the whole shot business but had written off ever having pets as an adult. And then one spring day almost 11 years ago, I stepped out onto my deck and a little black ball of fluff was meowing down below in my backyard. Of course I couldn't leave him there, so I scooped him up and started looking for either his mama or his owner. And that's when I found this place, because I knew nothing about caring for orphan kittens, much less one that was only a week old.
After getting him through those first few days--seeing as how I had allergies and was never going to own a cat--I started looking for a home for "Kitten," as we called him back then. I easily found three people willing to take him, but the one I chose needed me to keep him until he was weaned because of their work schedule. You know where this is going...that little guy simply stole our hearts away. Here he about 6 weeks of age looking all forlorn because we had to block him off in the kitchen while we went off to a Mother's Day gathering. (In no time at all he learned to scale the blockade.)
A few days before the appointed date for him to move to his new home, a neighbor found a feral mother and her litter of kittens living under his shed and I'm pretty positive he was from that cat family. If I'd only left him out in the yard a little longer she might have fetched him, but fate had another plan. That family of cats scattered upon their discovery and I was called into help with a scared little one that went into hiding. Suddenly we had two kittens on our hands. We quickly decided to offer the other one to the waiting family and keep our little fluffball. I sent one of my kids in to tell the kitten he wouldn't be leaving us after all, and he came back and reported that the kitten said he'd never intended to leave anyway.
And so Pippin became part of our family, and my most beloved cat. It wasn't long before my sweet kitten decided he had enough of that lap kitten baby stuff and we had a mighty little hunter on our hands who kept us laughing hilariously at his energy and kitten antics. He attacked everything that moved, and also a lot that didn't move. He discovered he liked pancakes and water spilled out of glasses, and we had to be vigilant because if we turned our backs for even a moment from the table, he'd be up there helping himself. He loved water and would pop his head into the shower spray and once even hopped into the bathtub with me. As a kitten he followed me around day and night, even when he was so exhausted he could hardly stay awake. Later as an adult cat he toned that down some, but I was his person and when he was awake he was usually nearby.
I sometimes smile reading descriptions of the sweet, loving cats that so many of you have. Pippin was a big boy, and a feisty boy. He had loving moments and sweet moments, but those were times of his choosing because he lived life his way. His wasn't the temperament that I suppose many would purposely seek out in a cat, but I respected him for who he was and I always admired his spirit.
Pippin loved--
Me. Always me.
Chasing bugs
Chicken
Hot summer nights outdoors
Hunting down socks in the laundry room and presenting his "prey" to me
Guarding his yard from four legged intruders
Sleeping between my knees at night
And so now I find myself saying goodbye to the cat I never intended to have, the cat who became a part of my heart forever.
I can't believe how much I miss you. I keep thinking you're going to be there waiting for me at the top of the stairs, or by the back door wanting to be let in, or behind my feet when I'm at the kitchen counter, or hopping up into my lap to get settled in for the night. I couldn't bear to look at your empty dish, so I put it by your picture and filled it with your baby mouse toy and a tuft of your fur and that cat medallion that always made me feel happy. My heart is aching now, but I'll always be glad I stepped out onto the deck at that precise time on that April morning. When your remains come back to me, I'll wait for a perfect spring day and then I'll return you to the place where I first saw you in the grass, the place where you spent many happy hours.
Rest in peace, Big Guy, and happy hunting.
I had no choice but to let him go. I was so thankful that our own vet was there as she knew him and handled him in a way that was the least distressing for him. I also appreciated that she had prepared me for this, having told me previously that because of his temperament if he ever had a serious condition he wouldn't be a good candidate for more intensive levels of treatment. I always knew if anything ever happened I would need to be ready to say goodbye quickly. It made that decision one tiny bit easier.
Pippin was the cat I never intended to have. I loved cats as a girl, but had very severe allergies to animals (and a bunch of other stuff). I went through the whole shot business but had written off ever having pets as an adult. And then one spring day almost 11 years ago, I stepped out onto my deck and a little black ball of fluff was meowing down below in my backyard. Of course I couldn't leave him there, so I scooped him up and started looking for either his mama or his owner. And that's when I found this place, because I knew nothing about caring for orphan kittens, much less one that was only a week old.
After getting him through those first few days--seeing as how I had allergies and was never going to own a cat--I started looking for a home for "Kitten," as we called him back then. I easily found three people willing to take him, but the one I chose needed me to keep him until he was weaned because of their work schedule. You know where this is going...that little guy simply stole our hearts away. Here he about 6 weeks of age looking all forlorn because we had to block him off in the kitchen while we went off to a Mother's Day gathering. (In no time at all he learned to scale the blockade.)
A few days before the appointed date for him to move to his new home, a neighbor found a feral mother and her litter of kittens living under his shed and I'm pretty positive he was from that cat family. If I'd only left him out in the yard a little longer she might have fetched him, but fate had another plan. That family of cats scattered upon their discovery and I was called into help with a scared little one that went into hiding. Suddenly we had two kittens on our hands. We quickly decided to offer the other one to the waiting family and keep our little fluffball. I sent one of my kids in to tell the kitten he wouldn't be leaving us after all, and he came back and reported that the kitten said he'd never intended to leave anyway.
And so Pippin became part of our family, and my most beloved cat. It wasn't long before my sweet kitten decided he had enough of that lap kitten baby stuff and we had a mighty little hunter on our hands who kept us laughing hilariously at his energy and kitten antics. He attacked everything that moved, and also a lot that didn't move. He discovered he liked pancakes and water spilled out of glasses, and we had to be vigilant because if we turned our backs for even a moment from the table, he'd be up there helping himself. He loved water and would pop his head into the shower spray and once even hopped into the bathtub with me. As a kitten he followed me around day and night, even when he was so exhausted he could hardly stay awake. Later as an adult cat he toned that down some, but I was his person and when he was awake he was usually nearby.
I sometimes smile reading descriptions of the sweet, loving cats that so many of you have. Pippin was a big boy, and a feisty boy. He had loving moments and sweet moments, but those were times of his choosing because he lived life his way. His wasn't the temperament that I suppose many would purposely seek out in a cat, but I respected him for who he was and I always admired his spirit.
Pippin loved--
Me. Always me.
Chasing bugs
Chicken
Hot summer nights outdoors
Hunting down socks in the laundry room and presenting his "prey" to me
Guarding his yard from four legged intruders
Sleeping between my knees at night
And so now I find myself saying goodbye to the cat I never intended to have, the cat who became a part of my heart forever.
I can't believe how much I miss you. I keep thinking you're going to be there waiting for me at the top of the stairs, or by the back door wanting to be let in, or behind my feet when I'm at the kitchen counter, or hopping up into my lap to get settled in for the night. I couldn't bear to look at your empty dish, so I put it by your picture and filled it with your baby mouse toy and a tuft of your fur and that cat medallion that always made me feel happy. My heart is aching now, but I'll always be glad I stepped out onto the deck at that precise time on that April morning. When your remains come back to me, I'll wait for a perfect spring day and then I'll return you to the place where I first saw you in the grass, the place where you spent many happy hours.
Rest in peace, Big Guy, and happy hunting.
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