Here is Vienna last September, on her 15th birthday. She was a part-Maine Coon, and you can barely see her bushy black tail.
We adopted Vienna when she was about 1 year old, and she’d been given the name Anna, which we knew wasn’t her true name. Shortly thereafter, she found her way behind some books in one of our book cases, and she pushed one of the books out onto the floor. It was a guidebook to the city of Vienna. That’s how she told us her name.
The 20yo cat we had at the time finally died, so we adopted a 7yo black cat who we renamed Paris. Paris was a wonderful cat in every way except one: he was very dominant, and a bully toward Vienna. She withdrew, and never interacted with us in any way. Except purring. She loved to purr, especially in bed.
After several years, Paris died. That’s when Vienna began to come alive, eventually becoming the most affectionate and playful cat we ever had. Everyone who met her described her with one word: Sweet.
She also turned out to be a great mouser, in spite of the fact that she’d been de-clawed.
About a week ago, we noticed her slightly limping. We thought it was something temporary, but kept an eye on her. Then on Saturday afternoon, she collapsed in the kitchen on her way to the litter box, and pee’d and defecated on the floor. It was apparently a stroke. We called the vet and made an appointment for Monday morning.
We carried her, mostly paralyzed except for her head, to her favorite place on the couch. For the rest of the weekend, we sat with her and comforted her (and each other). At first she could still purr, but never closed her eyes. We managed to get small amounts of food and water into her, but not much. Sometime Sunday she was still breathing but no longer purred.
Early Monday morning, a few hours before her vet appointment, she breathed her last breath.
We’ve been through this so many times in the past, but it never gets easy. We are heartbroken.
Goodbye, sweet Vienna. You will always be loved and missed. Best. Cat. Ever.
