My mom’s cat was put to sleep today.
Emily was a tiny, orange ball of fur when we got her in 1991. The people who gave her to us assured us that she was a boy, and that she was a quiet, sweet little kitten. Wrong, on both counts. (Well, kind of.) I named her Emily Dickinson, because she was such a reclusive weirdo.
I remember stopping at the grocery store on the way home, so my mom could run in and get a new litter box, kitten food, and a new set of little bowls for her. While she was in the store, I played in the car with the cat. I found out that not only was she a girl, but she was also a Hemingway cat. (Extra toes on each foot, but not as many as some.)
Emily was sweet for a while, but she was a total psycho kitty when it came to my older sister. The older sister called her “The Spawn of Satan”, which is pretty bad coming from an extremely religious chick. Every time my older sister came to the house, Emily would hiss and spit at her. She wasn’t a lap cat, unless it was my mom’s lap. She would rub up against your feet at the dinner table, but she never really liked to be petted. My mom always pretended that Emily was a nuisance, but she loved that cat.
When we took her to the vet, they had the nerve to tell us they would be charging extra to declaw the extra toes. We found another vet, who loved Emily as much as Emily loved my mom.
At Christmas time, my mom would hang a little stocking up by the steps for Emily. Every day, Emily would sit and stare at that stocking, waiting for it to be filled. Christmas morning, she would sit in front of it and meow like crazy, waiting on her kitty treats.
Emily turned out to be a really pretty cat. She was a beautiful orange color, and had really long fluffy hair. The only time I remember her not looking too hot was when she got fleas. She was severely allergic to them, and would literally chew her tail until the skin was showing. Let me tell you, a fluffy cat with a wiry tail looks pretty silly.
In June, Emily started acting a little odd. My mom picked her up, and found a couple of odd bumps on her stomach. A trip to the vet confirmed that it was breast cancer. My parents shelled out a lot of money to have masectomies done. My mom said she felt like such an idiot spending so much money on a cat, but my dad told her that whatever she wanted to do about it was fine with him.
At all her other checkups, Emily was fine. Same feisty kitty, she seemed like she was back to her old self. Then, last weekend, she stopped eating as much. My mom kept an eye on her, and made sure she was still eating and drinking. Yesterday she stopped entirely. My mom took her to the vet this morning.
It turns out that she had lung cancer, and there was nothing else that the vet could do. My mom spent the entire day crying, and she didn’t even call me, because she didn’t want me crying at work.
About 3 months ago, my cat got really sick. I don’t know what I would have done if I had to have him put to sleep, but my mom was all cried out by the time I talked to her tonight. And now, I’m crying like an idiot, but I really don’t care.
Rest in peace, Emily. I know you’re swatting the hell out of someone somewhere.
