- Joined
- Jul 30, 2004
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Our tabby cat, Mitzi, died today in my wife's arms while on the way to the vet.
She was 20 years old, remarkable for a cat. I got the cat along with a job, degree and an apartment in 1986, so I've spent half my life with her. Mitzi was a stray, from the litter next door- the people just would not spay their animal, and my girlfriend & I took in one of the kittens.
She rewarded the chance we took on her with a lot of love. Mitzi was a good cat, in every way. She really was.
In her long life, she saw a lot of change, and lived many places. We went through Hurricane Andrew together in Miami (Kendall) in 1992. That night, as the home was being pulled apart, we hid together in a closet. I remember the low pressure caused my ears to pop, like in a plane. Probably hers too.
Mitzi went through a few homes and different "mothers" over the years, accepting change with good cat grace. When I lived alone, she was the one who would greet me after a long day at the office. It was me and her for a while.
5, 10, 15 years flew by, like turning the pages in a book. Many things changed. I got married and Mitzi got a Siamese brother along the way, so she wasn't alone anymore either.
We moved to the Gulf Coast to get away from the pressures in Miami. Mitzi was 15 by the time we moved here, old for a cat but she never showed it.
When Hurricane Ivan struck in 2003, we evacuated and the cats were boarded at a vet where they'd be safe. Shelters don't allow pets. With a black marker, I wrote her name, our number and a word about her disposition on the cat carrier. I covered the writing with clear tape so if it got wet you could still read it.
We got them back eventually, though the house was heavily damaged (another story). Mitzi didn't mind sleeping on the plywood floors, and when plaster dust from the demolition and rebuilding got in her fur, she didn't mind.
We'd wash her and she even liked the warm water. A cheerful person.
Part of me thought she'd live forever. She made it to 20, a fact I proudly pointed out to visitors in our new home. Mitzi sure slept a lot, but you would too if you were 96, her human-age equivalent.
Last month she started looking skinnier. We took her to the vet, thinking diabetes or something. Nope. Bloodwork was OK. Nothing was physically wrong with her. An ear infection, but the medicine the doc gave us cleared it up.
This morning she was wheezing a little. She hadn't eaten last night, either. I couldn't get her to drink, she just wanted to lay down. We called; made an appointment to take her in at 10:00 this morning.
Mitz almost made it.
When we got in the car, my wife went to put the carrier in the back. Somehow I knew. "You'd better hold her," I said. She kept the cat with us in the front seat.
We were almost at the vet when she curled up on the towel and left us.
The vet put her on an examining table and we said our goodbyes. I've never lost a pet... Mitzi's fur was still as soft as a rabbit's. We petted her for a few minutes and finally made the cremation arrangements.
I left her cat carrier there. You can donate them; someone with a kitten might need one. Mitzi wouldn't need a carrier any longer.
On it was the writing I had put the day before the hurricane. Her name, our phone number and the word "lovable."
She was that.
Thanks for listening.
Mike
No smoke for her spirit, please, unless you love cats and want to. In lieu of this, if possible, pet a cat. They give us so much, they really do.
She was 20 years old, remarkable for a cat. I got the cat along with a job, degree and an apartment in 1986, so I've spent half my life with her. Mitzi was a stray, from the litter next door- the people just would not spay their animal, and my girlfriend & I took in one of the kittens.
She rewarded the chance we took on her with a lot of love. Mitzi was a good cat, in every way. She really was.
In her long life, she saw a lot of change, and lived many places. We went through Hurricane Andrew together in Miami (Kendall) in 1992. That night, as the home was being pulled apart, we hid together in a closet. I remember the low pressure caused my ears to pop, like in a plane. Probably hers too.
Mitzi went through a few homes and different "mothers" over the years, accepting change with good cat grace. When I lived alone, she was the one who would greet me after a long day at the office. It was me and her for a while.
5, 10, 15 years flew by, like turning the pages in a book. Many things changed. I got married and Mitzi got a Siamese brother along the way, so she wasn't alone anymore either.
We moved to the Gulf Coast to get away from the pressures in Miami. Mitzi was 15 by the time we moved here, old for a cat but she never showed it.
When Hurricane Ivan struck in 2003, we evacuated and the cats were boarded at a vet where they'd be safe. Shelters don't allow pets. With a black marker, I wrote her name, our number and a word about her disposition on the cat carrier. I covered the writing with clear tape so if it got wet you could still read it.
We got them back eventually, though the house was heavily damaged (another story). Mitzi didn't mind sleeping on the plywood floors, and when plaster dust from the demolition and rebuilding got in her fur, she didn't mind.
We'd wash her and she even liked the warm water. A cheerful person.
Part of me thought she'd live forever. She made it to 20, a fact I proudly pointed out to visitors in our new home. Mitzi sure slept a lot, but you would too if you were 96, her human-age equivalent.
Last month she started looking skinnier. We took her to the vet, thinking diabetes or something. Nope. Bloodwork was OK. Nothing was physically wrong with her. An ear infection, but the medicine the doc gave us cleared it up.
This morning she was wheezing a little. She hadn't eaten last night, either. I couldn't get her to drink, she just wanted to lay down. We called; made an appointment to take her in at 10:00 this morning.
Mitz almost made it.
When we got in the car, my wife went to put the carrier in the back. Somehow I knew. "You'd better hold her," I said. She kept the cat with us in the front seat.
We were almost at the vet when she curled up on the towel and left us.
The vet put her on an examining table and we said our goodbyes. I've never lost a pet... Mitzi's fur was still as soft as a rabbit's. We petted her for a few minutes and finally made the cremation arrangements.
I left her cat carrier there. You can donate them; someone with a kitten might need one. Mitzi wouldn't need a carrier any longer.
On it was the writing I had put the day before the hurricane. Her name, our phone number and the word "lovable."
She was that.
Thanks for listening.
Mike
No smoke for her spirit, please, unless you love cats and want to. In lieu of this, if possible, pet a cat. They give us so much, they really do.
.
