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.
She spent an overnight stay in the oxygen cage, then was able to come home on an even higher daily prednisone dose.
She woke up at 5:30 in her spot between our pillows and stepped over me to stretch out along my left side. I realized she was breathing rapidly, about 60 breaths/minute, and waited to see if her breathing would settle down. It didn’t. Normally she gets her morning medicines at 7 am, but I decided to go ahead and give it at 5:40.
There is the egret in the tree on the right, but do you see the second bird? I went out on the shore, and the sun came out from behind a cloud. Here, see the blue heron in the tree on the left?
That’s a lot of bird for those two little scrub trees!
Torrie was in the cat seat, just beyond the keeping room table.
I took the camera to DH’s office to show him our cuties, and when I returned to the keeping room, Torrie had piled in with Minky.
There was nothing to do but wash her – what Minky does best. (I just love how Minky always washes with her eyes closed.)
It has a more subtle beauty than the high contrast of the Meezer Ulmus. Different moods for different days, eh?
We now have a seating group of four upholstered chairs, and room to pull in more should the occasion call for it. Minky and Torrie have staked out their spots, and peace reigns.
Here’s the entire “Pride”, declaring a truce and napping on DH’s lap as he naps, too. (Left to right, that’s Victoria, or “Torrie”, Minky, and Casper.) Naps are a good thing…especially with cats to relax you.
This morning I finished the toe, and was ready for a photo shoot in the nice sunshine. One snap seems to be my quota before the photo shoot superviser shows up. 
Casper arranged himself tastefully and remained for his picture, thank you very much!
saw Casper getting his picture taken, she jumped right in – literally. Easy, Torrie…you don’t have to subdue the sock!
Victoria, the tortie point, aka our Warrior Princess, asked to be let under the covers. I was laying on my side, and she curled up in the C of my body. That was lovely for about three minutes.
landed on the foot of the bed. I was hopeful that he would curl up by my ankles, as he often does. Silly me, Casper was on his own goofy mission. He began walking up the ridge of my legs, on to my hip. “No, don’t do it, you big doofus! This is a mine field!” I thought. On he came, seemingly blissfully unaware that Victoria was under the covers. (Well, that’s his story, and he’s going to stick with it.) Casper put one big paw down on the blanket that covered the “innocent” Victoria, and she exploded out from under the covers, boxed his ears, and sent him packing off the bed!
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