In March 2013, we adopted Tonka. It had been four months since we’d lost Harvey. We thought it might be too soon to get another cat, but it wasn’t. Mrs. L.A. wanted to get the oldest cat, and the one that had been in the shelter the longest. Tonka had turned nine years old the previous November, and he’d been at the shelter for seven months. Before that, he was in a shelter in Spokane, all the way across the state. He’d lost half of his tail to some accident, and what was left had a knob of bone covered in fur that looked like a pom pom. He had ear mites and eye infections. We were told he suffered from anemia, and that we’d have to give him subcutaneous fluids once a month. He took his ear and eye medications without complaint. He was not anemic. He’s never needed the subcutaneous fluids. He did have asthma though, and it was alarming. Over the years his coughing bouts tapered off. We can’t remember the last time he coughed.
Tonka weighed over 14 ½ pounds, and he could be a little rambunctious. Over time, we allowed him to go outside. He was a bit of a bully. But that went away. Mostly. When it was time to come home, I’d call him. He’d come trotting up with his pom pom tail in the air and his belly wagging to and fro. When I came home from Seattle, he’d greet me in the yard. Later, he’d greet me at the door. In August 2014, Creamsickle adopted us. She may have taught him how to hunt. One day he came walking across the yard with the back half of a large mouse hanging out of his mouth. His meows were muffled as he brought home his prize. I made him drop the mouse, and the mouse ran away. I said Tonka was a bully. A couple of years ago a neighbour down the street complained he was menacing her feral cats. Mrs. L.A. decided he would be an indoor cat, and I built the catio.
Tonka has been a wonderful member of the family. He’s never been a cuddly cat. He never got into my lap until after Creamsicle died. And you’d never hear him purr unless you put your ear up to his side… or if he was eating. I wanted to make him welcome when we brought him home, so I’d give him pets as he ate. After a while he wouldn’t eat if I was nearby unless I pet him first. Tonka was ‘Mom’s Protector’, and I’m sure he saved her life. That’s a private matter, though. He would set up guard in the catio to protect us from raccoons. He liked sleeping with ‘mom’.
We knew Tonka was old when we adopted him. A couple of years ago I noticed how old he was. He was slowing down, and occasionally had trouble climbing up onto a bed. He was losing weight too. Since then he’s become a shadow of himself. Mrs. L.A. would need both hands to pick him up, and she’d grunt. The other day she picked him up with one hand as if he were a bag of feathers. A few months ago he went blind; a cataract in his left eye and a detached retina in his right one. His decline accelerated.
Last Friday he had three bites of pork. Normally he’d beg for more. He didn’t eat his gooshy food. He wouldn’t eat it Saturday either. I did coax him to have three bites of fish. ‘Mom’ got him to eat a couple of small bites of fish Sunday, and he ate some Braunschweiger I offered him later and Monday. He used to love sharing my scrambled eggs. Saturday the smell of them made him gag. By Wednesday he was refusing all food. He spent the day sleeping, getting up and turning around to sleep again, going to his outside water bowl, and sleeping some more. He urinated wherever he happened to be when he needed to.
Mrs. L.A., RN, said Saturday that his cessation of eating was a sign it was his time. She’d had a cat she held onto too long, and she felt guilty about letting her suffer. Tonka’s blindness, his loss of appetite, his weight loss, his inability to find the litter box… All say it’s time for him to rest. And one more thing: When I took Goo in for shots, I mentioned Tonka. The vet said that when he starts going down at the hind legs, it’s time. The last couple of weeks, I noticed he’d been sagging at the rear.
Thursday morning he was hemorhaging at the mouth. The smell was awful. The vet, who had been on vacation offered us a choice: We could bring him in at noon, and she would put him to sleep between other pets, or we could bring him in at four in the afternoon and be with him. When I took Harvey to see her, I thought she’d give him a shot and he’d be fine. I wasn’t there for him. We couldn’t let Creamcicle linger, so we took her in mid-day and she died without us. I couldn’t let Tonka die alone. we took him to the vet for the last time, at four in the afternoon. We were there with him.
I’m sorry, Tonka. We love you.
