Sad news today.
I had to put my cat Swipesy to sleep today. She was 22 years old.
She’d been having thyroid and kidney problems, and some obvious arthritis, but for all that she was a happy, feisty, loving kitty, fond of food and of standing on my chest. Just recently, she fought off a lymph node infection with the help of some antibiotics.
But yesterday, something broke inside her brain, and she was suddenly blind. She was staring wildly around and walking into things. I was torn. I know people do live with blind cats, but the vet’s was closed for the day, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
Then a couple of hours later, she couldn’t get her back legs to work right. She staggered in circles and couldn’t quite make it to the litter box.
I knew the time had come. I made her comfortable on her favorite chair, let her drink water out of a cup that I held. In the morning, breakfast was served to her in bed.
Then I got the car, and the carrier. She protested a little, but not much. I brought her in to the vet’s. The thing was done.
My Swipesy, my little girl, my lazy little kitten. She loved to play fetch when she was young. Now she’s gone.
Now, my younger cat, Shupiluliumiash the Magnificent, (known as Shuppie to his friends, ) is all I have left of my grand clowder that once numbered four of these beloved creatures. Shuppie’s 17, grumpy, and likes to bite toes. I love him, but he’s not much comfort right now.
Swipesy spent many nights sleeping next to my pillow. Or nestled in the crook of my left arm, her head on my chest, purring. My chest was one of her favorite places.
My chest will be lonely, as will the rest of me.