Two months ago, my partner and I had five cats and a dog. Two of the cats were mine before we moved in together, the other three cats and the dog were hers. A little over a year ago, we merged our two groups into one big (mostly) happy family.
Odo "Odafin" was our little old man. I adopted him in 2006, but we figure he was about 12 years old at the time. I brought him home knowing I would be his retirement home. He was supposed to be company for my little girl, Willow, but she was too independent. When she passed, I brought home Zek, and he and Odo became good buddies. Odo had his share of health issues, including suspected IBD and a possible tumor, but he was always very sweet and loving. When he needed medication, he took it without any problems. He had a way of communicating his needs and desires, including pulling my hair and biting my head to wake me up. After we moved in with my partner, he had to be confined to a single room since he was never comfortable with the dog. In his final few weeks, we spend most evenings in the yard, just laying in the grass or on the bricks. I'm thankful our summer weather lasted almost until his final day so we could spend as much time as possible outdoors together. On October 11, 2012, I helped my sweet old man bring peace to his ailing, 18-year-old body.
After Odo's passing, we didn't expect to lose another cat so soon. Infinity "Mamma" Alexandra K. was my partner's oldest cat and the only female non-human in the house. She was the queen, and she made sure everyone knew it. She played mother to all of my partners pets, one of which was her biological child, giving them baths and swatting them if they got out of line. She bossed us humans around too, with her often-silent meows demanding treats or attention. In her younger days, she would leap into our arms from the floor. She was bonded with Snowball (who we called her "husband"), and I loved watching them cuddle together. A few weeks ago, my partner found Infinity on the floor and unable to stand or walk properly. We rushed her to the vet, who determined that her right back foot was painful. We thought she might have fallen or sprained it somehow, and confined her so that she could rest. Unfortunately, she continued to deteriorate, losing over 2 pounds in less than a month. Yesterday, we again took her to the vet, where she was eventually diagnosed with congestive heart failure. On November 29, 2012, we again helped another family member let go.
"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan." --Irving Townsend.
Rest in peace, Odo and Infinity. Our home feels empty without you.
Odo "Odafin" was our little old man. I adopted him in 2006, but we figure he was about 12 years old at the time. I brought him home knowing I would be his retirement home. He was supposed to be company for my little girl, Willow, but she was too independent. When she passed, I brought home Zek, and he and Odo became good buddies. Odo had his share of health issues, including suspected IBD and a possible tumor, but he was always very sweet and loving. When he needed medication, he took it without any problems. He had a way of communicating his needs and desires, including pulling my hair and biting my head to wake me up. After we moved in with my partner, he had to be confined to a single room since he was never comfortable with the dog. In his final few weeks, we spend most evenings in the yard, just laying in the grass or on the bricks. I'm thankful our summer weather lasted almost until his final day so we could spend as much time as possible outdoors together. On October 11, 2012, I helped my sweet old man bring peace to his ailing, 18-year-old body.
After Odo's passing, we didn't expect to lose another cat so soon. Infinity "Mamma" Alexandra K. was my partner's oldest cat and the only female non-human in the house. She was the queen, and she made sure everyone knew it. She played mother to all of my partners pets, one of which was her biological child, giving them baths and swatting them if they got out of line. She bossed us humans around too, with her often-silent meows demanding treats or attention. In her younger days, she would leap into our arms from the floor. She was bonded with Snowball (who we called her "husband"), and I loved watching them cuddle together. A few weeks ago, my partner found Infinity on the floor and unable to stand or walk properly. We rushed her to the vet, who determined that her right back foot was painful. We thought she might have fallen or sprained it somehow, and confined her so that she could rest. Unfortunately, she continued to deteriorate, losing over 2 pounds in less than a month. Yesterday, we again took her to the vet, where she was eventually diagnosed with congestive heart failure. On November 29, 2012, we again helped another family member let go.
"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan." --Irving Townsend.
Rest in peace, Odo and Infinity. Our home feels empty without you.
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