<p>I wanted to share this little story. One of our cats died this morning. He’d been sick for months: an underlying heart condition was brought out and dramatically advanced by a virulent disease one of the other cats brought into the house. He somehow kept coming back to life but not this time. We figured he was on life 78 or 113. </p>
<p>So here’s the little story. </p>
<p>This cat was not only the smartest and quirkiest but an all time champion mouse hunter. One example: we were standing in a group talking under the driveway lights when the cat, who had been weaving in and out of our legs, took off at high speed into the bushes 20 feet away. He emerged only a second or two later with a mouse in his mouth. It was alive, not stashed because he dropped it unhurt at my feet.</p>
<p>He started to turn down late last week when his very special person, my youngest, was here for her only visit this summer. She got to see her beloved animal almost acting like himself though it was obvious he was trending down. She left for school Friday morning. Late that night, I went to let him in and saw he had something in his mouth. It was a mouse. I guess he needed to change his grip because he tossed it in the air like a chef flipping an omelet and caught it so the mouse was facing the other way. It was freshly dead. I took pictures through the glass door. When I went out to get a shot without the flash reflecting, he looked at me with a look I’d never seen before. I’d say it was grim determination. This is what a hunter does. This is what I am.</p>
<p>Last night I saw he was having trouble lying down. He sat outside on a rock for over an hour looking and hearing into the darkness. He peed on the rug in the hallway this morning, so I knew he was going down again because he didn’t try to make it to the bathroom. I gave him an extra dose of diuretic so he wouldn’t suffocate. I’ve been managing his medication to keep his chest from filling with fluid: a little extra diuretic if his breathing or posture or purr was off. He sneaked past me down into the basement, which was a very bad sign because that’s his “I’m really sick” place. After searching upstairs, I found him lying on the floor, covered in pee. I picked him up, carried him upstairs, wiped him off and put him on the bed. He cried out a few times in the tone of fear. He started to breathe open mouthed, but responded to having his ears rubbed. I wiped his mouth and gave him time alone. I found him in the playroom panting and drooling, but calm. I knew he was still with me because he turned so I could rub his chest. As I talked to him, he walked away and I took that as a sign he needed to be alone. I went to brush his brother, who has been showing signs of depression - like not grooming, like continuous eating - and when I came back he had walked into my daughter’s room. He was lying on his side next to her bed. He was peaceful. That is where he chose to die. His heart stopped beating. </p>
<p>He saw the person he loved the most. He caught his last mouse. He went out as he lived. </p>
<p>sorry for your loss. We just lost our 9 year old Keeshond dog a few days ago, He had epilepsy since a year old, seizures every few months, tough life…but the sweetest dog I’ve ever met.</p>
<p>He did the same thing, he went downhill fast and our whole family got to lay with him and he seemed OK when I left him to eat a quick dinner…went back to check on him and he was gone. I’ve read that a lot of pets do this, they want to be alone when they pass. Takes the guilt away a little I guess for not being there… maybe that’s how they want it.</p>
<p>So story for you loss, but thank you for sharing such a lovely story. We lost our 15 year old schnauzer a few weeks ago; he held on until our D (his special person) came home after college graduation, and they had a good six weeks together. He’d been in rapid decline for the last couple of years, but I know he was glad to spend that special time with her.</p>
<p>I am so very sorry about the loss of your beloved cat. Somewhere someone knows the words to a poem called Rainbow Bridge. Our animals love us…and we love them.</p>
<p>…Did I ever mention that my screen name is taken from the names of two of our animals? One who is at my feet and the other who has passed on.</p>
<p>I truly hope that someday soon you will think only of your beloved pet and smile full with the knowledge that you gave him a great life. Now I have to give my dogs a treat.</p>
<p>Your kitty was so human in his last act - my mother did the same thing before she died. We didn’t know she was dying but she must have known. She made sure to see each of us (4 kids), especially her favorite who had to make the longest journey to see her. The morning after my sister arrived my mother died peacefully in her own bed. I think she was happy and relaxed and ready to go - just like your kitty was. What a fabulous way to live and to die. </p>
<p>I’ve lost a few kitties too - the most recent one was difficult (cancer) - I’ll never forget her but it did help to move on and get a kitten soon afer she died. (And then the foster mommy of the kitten convinced us to get his best foster buddy so now we have two big fat best friend kitties!)</p>
<p>We buried him under a rock he liked to sit on in the garden. Our youngest cat - a stray who moved himself in a few years ago - came by our little funeral to say goodbye. </p>
<p>Earlier today I pulled out a piece of smoked turkey, which was his favorite treat to the end, pretty much all he’d eat in the last days. The other cat came up so I gave him his usual treat piece. He refused to eat it. He kept looking around. He always let his older “brother” get his first. I held the turkey to his nose until he ate it.</p>
<p>Lergnom, please keep an eye on the younger kitty. My younger cat starved herself to death because she was “grieving” the loss of her older companion and DD’s departure to college. I had no idea cats could do that, but apparently, they can. It is a good thing that he ate that turkey. Hugs.</p>