Post by The Jenn on Jun 24, 2010 11:50:18 GMT -5
We had to put down my little Stevie-kitty today. Stevie Ray Wonder, aka. Weebles. He was my baby, the only cat who's ever bonded to me like that. We had him since he was six weeks old. He died at roughly eight and a half. Far too soon, but we knew we wouldn't have forever with him.
He was our little "walking issue". Always a mess. He'd been born without eyes, completely without them, though it didn't hinder his mobility or function in any way. He's also had bad teeth and gums for as long as I can remember. His testicles never dropped so neutering was a hassle and the vet could only ever find one. He was just... a bit of a mess. But the sweetest little man you could imagine. It was what saved his life.
My Mom's a vet tech at our local animal control facility. He was brought in as a stray at six weeks old, eyeless and skinny and dirty and covered in fleas. All alone. I think someone found him in an alley, just sitting there, lost. At first touch, he rubbed and loved on Mom's hand, so obviously he had not been born in that alley. Someone dumped him there, and someone else found him and brought him in. Unfortunately, we only adopt out kittens at eight weeks or older, so he needed to be put down. It's just how things work.
But Mom couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She stared at him, loving all over her hands and arms, or sitting in the cage quiet as a mouse with his head weaving back and forth like a radar dish, or standing confused while younger kittens played all around him and bumped into him. It was pathetic. It was adorable.
She decided that she couldn't leave him there over the weekend, all alone and with no stimulation, so she brought him home as a weekend foster. Pff. Yeah. We all know how that goes. He'd been here ever since.
In January, he got a sinus infection. We treated it with antibiotics and it would have cycles of intermittent improvement and return. About two weeks ago, fighting this sucker as best we could, we noticed a bit of flesh sticking out of his nose for the first time instead of just mucus. We took him to the vet and they removed a three inch thing from his right nasal passage. Sent it in for biopsy. It turned out to be a polyp, which was the best possible scenario.
Unfortunately, in that time since the removal, he had stopped eating. Eventually stopped drinking. Lost weight rapidly. Wasn't responding to meds. Last night, he became extremely lethargic. We knew it was time.
I bawled my eyes out all night. This was my baby. My baby. He slept with me, he slept on me, he rarely left my room if he had the option to stay in here. My bed was his safety. He would rather be in my lap than anywhere else. He gave me his belly with joy and without reservation. He made wonderful air bread when I rubbed it.
Small kitty. Compact. Adorable. My little man.
We took him in to work this morning and Mom gave him the injection, then put him in my arms so I could sob as he passed. I've started crying again while typing this and I can hardly see through the tears. Good thing I touch type.
He stuck his tongue out as he went, so he died looking about as 'tarded as he came into this world. Which is to say, pretty darn 'tarded.
He could jump at a shaking sugar packet more accurately than a sighted cat, and would always get your fingers if you weren't fast enough. He loved string. Loved us. Loved our Golden Retrievers, both of them.
Loved me. And I loved him so much.
Goodbye, baby. My little Weeble Muffin. I hope it doesn't take you too long to mentally map out your new digs, wherever you are. Play hard at the bridge, my little kitty man. I love you, now and forever.
He was our little "walking issue". Always a mess. He'd been born without eyes, completely without them, though it didn't hinder his mobility or function in any way. He's also had bad teeth and gums for as long as I can remember. His testicles never dropped so neutering was a hassle and the vet could only ever find one. He was just... a bit of a mess. But the sweetest little man you could imagine. It was what saved his life.
My Mom's a vet tech at our local animal control facility. He was brought in as a stray at six weeks old, eyeless and skinny and dirty and covered in fleas. All alone. I think someone found him in an alley, just sitting there, lost. At first touch, he rubbed and loved on Mom's hand, so obviously he had not been born in that alley. Someone dumped him there, and someone else found him and brought him in. Unfortunately, we only adopt out kittens at eight weeks or older, so he needed to be put down. It's just how things work.
But Mom couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She stared at him, loving all over her hands and arms, or sitting in the cage quiet as a mouse with his head weaving back and forth like a radar dish, or standing confused while younger kittens played all around him and bumped into him. It was pathetic. It was adorable.
She decided that she couldn't leave him there over the weekend, all alone and with no stimulation, so she brought him home as a weekend foster. Pff. Yeah. We all know how that goes. He'd been here ever since.
In January, he got a sinus infection. We treated it with antibiotics and it would have cycles of intermittent improvement and return. About two weeks ago, fighting this sucker as best we could, we noticed a bit of flesh sticking out of his nose for the first time instead of just mucus. We took him to the vet and they removed a three inch thing from his right nasal passage. Sent it in for biopsy. It turned out to be a polyp, which was the best possible scenario.
Unfortunately, in that time since the removal, he had stopped eating. Eventually stopped drinking. Lost weight rapidly. Wasn't responding to meds. Last night, he became extremely lethargic. We knew it was time.
I bawled my eyes out all night. This was my baby. My baby. He slept with me, he slept on me, he rarely left my room if he had the option to stay in here. My bed was his safety. He would rather be in my lap than anywhere else. He gave me his belly with joy and without reservation. He made wonderful air bread when I rubbed it.
Small kitty. Compact. Adorable. My little man.
We took him in to work this morning and Mom gave him the injection, then put him in my arms so I could sob as he passed. I've started crying again while typing this and I can hardly see through the tears. Good thing I touch type.
He stuck his tongue out as he went, so he died looking about as 'tarded as he came into this world. Which is to say, pretty darn 'tarded.
He could jump at a shaking sugar packet more accurately than a sighted cat, and would always get your fingers if you weren't fast enough. He loved string. Loved us. Loved our Golden Retrievers, both of them.
Loved me. And I loved him so much.
Goodbye, baby. My little Weeble Muffin. I hope it doesn't take you too long to mentally map out your new digs, wherever you are. Play hard at the bridge, my little kitty man. I love you, now and forever.
