My terrible kitty roomate passed away today. He died unexcpectedly at 10.
He loved plants, flowers, anything pink and lacy, water of any kind, and dogs. He also loved chasing me around the house in a frenzy! He was a character, the kind of boy who acted like he was King of the House, and the one time he got locked out, started crying. Even though he’s half-feral and HUGE (close to 20 lbs, all muscle).
If he got a bowl of water, he insisted it be FRESH. If not you would hear about it for the rest of the day. Everything was to be perfect for him. And so it was; this was his life. Everything he wanted, came to be. Until one night.
I came home to him crying Friday night. He was throwing up, diarrhea. We took him to the vet ER, he passed soon after. We don’t even know why.
I am in shock, my mother is doubly so. It is way too soon. Within 18 hours he went from OK to dead. The vet said it could have been toxins or a blood clot (and yes we went over every single thing he could have gotten into, and nothing was open/available).
R.I.P. Lucky Cat, son of Kitka Boo. I call him terrible because he chased me, and me alone, up the stairs many times. What I wouldn’t give for a claw wound right now from him. Stupid I know, but I miss that cat. The tears have been flowin’.
I just had to get it out somewhere. If you want to share your own stories, go for it.
I am so sorry to hear about your cat. Did he have a name or did you just call him ‘terrible’? Reminds me a lot of my younger cat, a stray with a huge sense of entitlement. You would think they would be grateful that you took them in off the street, and in the case of mine, away from children with scissors, but nooo, they walk in your house and want to rearrange the furniture. I love a cat with an attitude, but it makes it so much more noticeable when they’re gone. Hugs to you and your Mom.
Lucky is in good company, many good cats have crossed the Rainbow Bridge
There’s Cupcake, a sealpoint Siamese who crossed when I was a toddler, Am (brother of Si) who crossed when I was 13, Garfunkle (who we got to keep Si company - and we changed Si’s name to Simon), who had to be put down, poor kitty had a parasite, and finally Simon, while I was in college.
I’m not sure how I’ll react when eventually Smokey crosses - but that won’t be for many years. :knock wood:
This made me laugh, thanks. We called him Lucky. He was concieved before we had a chance to fix our wily housecat. He was born as the single kitty from a runt mother, with his back legs, bent backwards. I guess lots of small runt kitties can’t have litters. My mother, sister, and I massaged his legs back into the proper form over a period of weeks. He was always slightly feral and hissed at most human touch. But we all loved him, so the name Lucky took on many meanings.
He was always exceedingly nice to his mother and he loved dogs.
I thank you for the hugs, I need them. And the sense of entitlement, I thought that was universal for cats!
My younger cat is also named Lucky. He was a stray that my daughter found, but not before someone had chopped up his fur, cut off his tail, and took a chunk out of his ear. He figured out real quick that the way to my house was through my kid. All the way home in the car he snuggled up to her like she was his last hope, but kept leaning his head back like he was checking to see if I was buying it. It was when he would cock his head like that at me that I would say “You are sooo lucky” By the time we got home, it just kinda stuck and he’s been Lucky ever since.
It’s amazing, the different personalities (felinealities?) of our cats. Lucky was a real treasure, and bless you for giving him extra care when he was born.
When I was little, the only time we had cats was when we lived in the country. They weren’t allowed in the house – strictly barn and yard cats, and I never really got to know any of them.
Didn’t have cats again until I was married with children. The first cat was Momma, adopted from one of my brother’s wives. She was flea-ridden (the cat, not the wife), and she’d sit on my lap and let me pick them off her. I gave her baths under running water in the kitchen sink, and she decided later that the sink was a good place for a nap. She was sorta calico-colored, long hair, really gorgeous, very regal and loving.
Before we had her fixed she managed to get pregnant. Had five beautiful kittens – two of them looked Siamese, only they were a cream color. We found homes for all of them and then had Momma fixed.
Our next cat (we still had Momma) was a muddy gray colored kitten that followed my daughter home. (Yeah, right.) The kids named him Bonkers. He was. Chased everything and I swear he could leap five feet in the air. He loved to stretch out full length with his tummy facing the heating vents and sleep in tiny boxes.
Then we made the move back to Iowa, and since we were going to be living with relatives for awhile, we couldn’t bring them. Luckily we found good homes for both of them, and I choose to believe that they’re both still alive.
So I’ve never lost a cat that I’m close to. Ricky was 13 this year, and Mick is 8. They’re healthy indoor cats, and I don’t even want to think about losing them.
Im so sorry, robotic_panda. Its always hard to say goodbye to a member of the family!
Smile knowing you gave Lucky a great life. (I’m smiling thinking of a giant housecat chasing a robotic panda up the stairs!) If you ever find yourself running up stairs for no reason, rest assured that’s Lucky paying you a visit!
I recently lost a kitty too (my little Russian Blue girl, Meep–she was only 5) so I know how it feels. I’ll ask her to show Lucky around and show him where all the best catnip and sleeping spots are. She’s only been gone less than a month now, but I’m sure she’s found them already.
Gotta go now–something in my eye, y’know…darn allergies…
When you talked about the water needing to be fresh, that reminded me of Erica who I just put to sleep several weeks ago. Erica used to get her Outside water, and it HAD to be fresh when she drank it. She’d go out and wait for you to pick up, re-fill and return her bowl.
We called him Lucky. He was concieved before we had a chance to fix our wily housecat. He was born as the single kitty from a runt mother, with his back legs, bent backwards. I guess lots of small runt kitties can’t have litters. My mother, sister, and I massaged his legs back into the proper form over a period of weeks. He was always slightly feral and hissed at most human touch. But we all loved him, so the name Lucky took on many meanings.
