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I got an email from my mom yesterday. She had to put her cat down. Now she's all alone.
Kit was my dad's cat, or rather, my dad was owned by Kit. She was an odd looking cat, grey tabby with white markings and she had an underbite so her lower jaw thrust forward a bit.
Someone had declawed her then dumped her when they got tired of her. She was found digging through my sister's garbage searching for food. She never weighed more than 7 pounds, but she ruled the house. She punched hard and nipped when she still had teeth. She had an incurable gum infection that eventually required the removal of all but a few back teeth. It was almost as if she was allergic to her own teeth, poor thing. No wonder she was crabby. She would be sweet for a short while, then she'd suddenly get tired of being petted and smack and nip you.
When Dad was still here, she'd get jealous if he talked to anyone other than her and she'd get between him and the other person and start talking to him. She nipped him on more than one occasion for not paying attention to her when she tried to break up a conversation. When he was fighting Hodgkins, she tried to sit on him all the time even though it hurt him to have even that slight pressure. I think it was her little pointy feet that hurt. It was only when he started to smell of death that she abandoned him and seemed lost for several months after he was gone.
She eventually started snuggling with my mom, accepting her role as secondary cat because Boots owned Mom. She mellowed and didn't nip people as often. She and Boots came to a better understanding and would actually play. When Boots died, Kit had Mom to herself. She became very sweet with everyone. I guess she just wanted to be an only cat.
The last month or so, Kit stopped eating. She'd always been particular about food - something I found strange in a rescue - but now she wasn't eating at all. She'd been through periods of that in the past so Mom didn't worry until it got past two weeks. Then Mom had surgery of her own and had to recover. Kit finally got checked out at the vet yesterday. She had cancer in her esophagus, so Mom let her go.
Mom has said she doesn't want any more pets. It's just too hard for her to care for them. I can't imagine not having at least one cat around. Oh well, we'll see if God agrees with that idea this time. The last time she said that, God sent her a little orange kitten as she was taking her dying kitty to the vet for hydration. A mockingbird or blue jay was about to peck that little kitten to death on the front porch. There was no choice in the matter, she had to rescue that kitten who was originally named "No more" and changed to Babe. Babe brought other kitties home until they had three for a while. The last one to follow Babe home was Boots.
With the state of Mom's health, maybe no more pets is a good idea. I just couldn't stand the lonliness if I were her.
Kit was my dad's cat, or rather, my dad was owned by Kit. She was an odd looking cat, grey tabby with white markings and she had an underbite so her lower jaw thrust forward a bit.
Someone had declawed her then dumped her when they got tired of her. She was found digging through my sister's garbage searching for food. She never weighed more than 7 pounds, but she ruled the house. She punched hard and nipped when she still had teeth. She had an incurable gum infection that eventually required the removal of all but a few back teeth. It was almost as if she was allergic to her own teeth, poor thing. No wonder she was crabby. She would be sweet for a short while, then she'd suddenly get tired of being petted and smack and nip you.
When Dad was still here, she'd get jealous if he talked to anyone other than her and she'd get between him and the other person and start talking to him. She nipped him on more than one occasion for not paying attention to her when she tried to break up a conversation. When he was fighting Hodgkins, she tried to sit on him all the time even though it hurt him to have even that slight pressure. I think it was her little pointy feet that hurt. It was only when he started to smell of death that she abandoned him and seemed lost for several months after he was gone.
She eventually started snuggling with my mom, accepting her role as secondary cat because Boots owned Mom. She mellowed and didn't nip people as often. She and Boots came to a better understanding and would actually play. When Boots died, Kit had Mom to herself. She became very sweet with everyone. I guess she just wanted to be an only cat.
The last month or so, Kit stopped eating. She'd always been particular about food - something I found strange in a rescue - but now she wasn't eating at all. She'd been through periods of that in the past so Mom didn't worry until it got past two weeks. Then Mom had surgery of her own and had to recover. Kit finally got checked out at the vet yesterday. She had cancer in her esophagus, so Mom let her go.
Mom has said she doesn't want any more pets. It's just too hard for her to care for them. I can't imagine not having at least one cat around. Oh well, we'll see if God agrees with that idea this time. The last time she said that, God sent her a little orange kitten as she was taking her dying kitty to the vet for hydration. A mockingbird or blue jay was about to peck that little kitten to death on the front porch. There was no choice in the matter, she had to rescue that kitten who was originally named "No more" and changed to Babe. Babe brought other kitties home until they had three for a while. The last one to follow Babe home was Boots.
With the state of Mom's health, maybe no more pets is a good idea. I just couldn't stand the lonliness if I were her.
