Long-time readers are familiar with my companion cat, Minky. After all, it is her regal portrait that appears as my icon. Three years ago she was diagnosed with asthma and a collapsed lung lobe. Three years of twice-daily prednisone and bronchodilators later her fur quality had become coarser, and Minky’s beautiful chocolate pointes had faded. Her devotion never flagged; each morning I read blogs with Minky in my lap. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.
December 22, 2010 she came and sat by my feet in the early evening. As I contemplated her, I realized she was once again in respiratory distress. Dear Dr. Jason, her veterinarian, had given me his cell phone number several hospitalizations ago. Cats, like human children, seem to have a pronounced tendency to get sick after office hours, you see. We went into our emergency drill, which included my injecting Minky with the syringe of medicine stored for such occasions, and met Dr. Jason at his office. She was an exemplary patient when she was really ill (don’t bring that stuff near her when she felt better!). The mood was calm and efficient as Dr. Jason gave her the usual medicines, and prepared the oxygen cage for her.
As I said, we’d done all this three times before. The next morning she would be weaned off oxygen and I could bring her home. This time, she was again in trouble without the oxygen, so back in the oxygen cage she went for another night away from home. Dr. Jason marveled that most cats struggle against the oxygen, but Minky just stretched out her neck to be nearer the flow. In fact, the usual behavior for a sick cat is to go off and hide under the bed, not present themself for treatment.
The second morning, December 24, it was clear that there had been no improvement. Even the oxygen wasn’t giving Minky comfort. She purred at my arrival, but couldn’t really hold her head up. I’ve always prayed for the wisdom to know when quality of life was no longer present, and that time had arrived. DH and I signed the euthanasia papers, consenting to the one gift we could give Minky.
Today, one week later, I have written of Minky’s passing both in tribute to a magnificent cat and to share our experience with you. It would have been easier to say something sanitized about “losing” my dear cat; yet I know many of you have fur children and may have to make such difficult decisions in the future.
Our priest, Fr. Chad, sites C. S. Lewis, who believed that God, who gave us the companionship and love of our fur children will surely have them waiting for us with Him in heaven. Rest in peace, dear friend.
Meezermeowmy's Weblog 
Heather said,
December 30, 2010 at 6:04 pm
Rest in peace Minkycat. I’d like to think our furry friends are waiting for us too.
Heather/Dragonsnlace
linnakat said,
January 1, 2011 at 9:35 am
I’m sitting here with my dog at my feet and my cat curled up on the sofa beside me…I am so sorry for your loss, and thank you for sharing with us. I see the gray appearing in my pets’ fur, know the time is coming, and know it is not going to be easy.
Knitnana said,
January 8, 2011 at 10:41 pm
Sweet Minky. I’m so sorry, but yes, it is a blessing we can do this for our furkids. We save them so much suffering by being able to say…”yes, now, sweet one, farewell…bless you for being my loving friend.”
You gave her a wonderful forever home, B-K.
(((((hugs)))))
AlisonH said,
January 12, 2011 at 1:48 pm
Oh honey. I’m so sorry. My thanks to Minky for a good example of how to be when not feeling well.
sandcola said,
February 8, 2012 at 12:50 pm
So so hard to hold that soft, sweet, warm baby in your arms and tell them you’ll love them forever, never forget them, and that they were the best friend ever, but it’s time to let their troubles go. Rest in peace, to your Minky, and my Jazzy.
meezermeowmy said,
February 8, 2012 at 2:03 pm
So sorry for the loss of Jazzy.
The other cats in our household have modified their family roles, and Victoria claims my lap as often as she can. Still, she’s more of a “warrior princess” than a soul mate…still miss my Minky.
Meezermeowmy
Iris said,
July 31, 2012 at 11:43 am
I know this is a really old post and that this might open an old wound, but I wanted to tell you how much I relate to this. In 2006, I had to have my best friend (gray tabby) put down because of a sarcoma growing in her jaw that caused her great pain in eating to the extent she had quit. It took me three years to get a new cat. Why do we keep on doing it? For me, it’s the change to save “just one.” Destiny was like your cat and would come around for her treatments – throat tube feeding and would, then, sit next to me for hours purring. It still brings tears to my eyes. I still miss my little Destiny, too, and it brings tears to my eyes. Watching her go was so hard, as was your chore, too.
By the way, I found you via Colin.
meezermeowmy said,
July 31, 2012 at 3:11 pm
You’re right, I haven’t written on after Minky’s death. She always sat beside me on a kitchen stool…that’s her pose in my icon. Perhaps she was muse, as well as companion?
Now the younger girl, Victoria, has picked up the torch as constant companion. Perhaps I can write again?
Thank you for your comments…your fur babies were lucky to have you for a parent!