Well ... he's gone

[Pixelated]

Fuzzy Pumpkin has gone to wherever all good kitties go. His chest was filling with fluid (again, after having been drained twice in less than a week) and his X-rays had shown shadows that indicated cancerous growths on, near, or in his lungs. And he had stopped eating. I couldn't even tempt him with Churu or anything similar anymore. There was nothing more to be done.

This is such a small apartment, and yet now it feels so very empty.

[Kristev]

Oh dear. May your kitty be safe with Bast now. It's okay to cry if you want to. I'll listen.

[Kit-Ginevra]

You can be reassured that you did all you could to make his last days comfortable

[Pixelated]

Thank you, guys.

Kristev: Thank you. I actually did more crying before he left, since I knew what was coming. Definitely shed some tears at the vet's as well. And I will probably shed a few more when his ashes are returned to me.

Kit-Ginevra: Thank you. I like to think that I did do all I could, and that he had a good life with me, and a quick and easy death ... which is the final thing I could do for him.

I still find myself looking around, expecting to see a little fuzzy orange face staring at me from the corner of the sofa or the front door, waiting to go for walkies in the hallway. And I can't take a step back without checking behind me to make sure I don't step on somebody's paws or tail. Not just missing Fuzzy Pumpkin (a/k/a Fuzzy Butt ) but also a lifetime spent with cats. This is the first time in I-don't-know-how-long I've been totally cat-less.

[Ironclad Alibi]

My condolences to you.

[El Pollo Guerrera]

I'm very sorry for your loss.

[Nunavut Pants]

It's always hard to lose a beloved family member. Just remember, FP knew he was loved.

Don't be afraid to get another kitty, if and when the time is right. (And don't be afraid to not get another kitty!)

Hugs to you. My late orange tabbies Big Bump and Atlas are welcoming him across the Rainbow Bridge, I'm sure.

[Pixelated]

Thanks very much, Ironclad Alibi. He was such a sweetie. I still find myself look around for him.

Thanks so much, El Pollo Guerrera. I can't remember the last time I had NO cats. It's pretty depressing.

Thank you very much, Nunavut Pants. When I brought him home after the first vet visit, I ran out and bought all kinds of food and even some new toys. He never got to play with the toys; he went downhill so fast. Tell Big Bump and Atlas to give a shout to Fuzzy Britches as well. They can all chase celestial mice together.

One fellow tenant asked if this was a "FREE! I'm FREE!" moment. I said no, it was more like a "This apartment, small as it is, is SO empty" moment. I don't think she quite got it. (Don't know if she has pets.)

Another tenant asked why I didn't get him surgery. At 17? No. My maternal grandfather -- were he still alive -- would've hit the roof. He wasn't sentimental about animals but also didn't like to see them suffer, and he would've said that at 17, it was time to let the cat go as peacefully as possible. (TBH I'm not even sure the vet would've done it, even if I'd asked for it.)

I will be getting at least one other cat in a month or two. I'm watching two on the website of the local Humane Society ... one is 11 years old. The tenant who asked about the surgery asked why I would get another fairly elderly cat, as it would just be another heartbreak fairly soon. Well, nobody knows how soon "fairly soon" is; that cat could easily live to 20. The other cat is 5 but is a very timid cat who (the text warns) will probably hide away for some time until he gets comfortable. She asked why I would take him either. How about ... because there's a possibility nobody else will?

You see all these posts on Facebook and such about giving a chance to shelter animals who are old, or who don't jump up and run to greet you, but who need a good home just as much as the ones who do. So if either or both of them are around in a month or two, I will be putting in to adopt at least one of them.

Part of the reason I'm waiting so long is that I want to pull as much as possible out of this apartment and put it back into storage, with the intent of living very much in "minimalism" until I can find another place to live. This fucking building has mice, which are bad, and bedbugs, which are worse. I'm going to treat this place like I treated an apartment decades ago that had cockroaches: wash and pack stuff and get it out of here immediately, so there's no risk I'll take any "travellers" with me when I go. And I want the chaos to be over before I bring another animal in here.

[Ghel]

I'm so sorry. It always hurts to lose a pet you've loved.

[Pixelated]

Thank you, Ghel, it does indeed. I always look around for him when I walk in the door, especially after work.

I think I got him when he was about a year old, and that was a story in itself. He was a stray, and when I tried to turn him in to a local shelter, one of the workers said "Well, he's not very eye-catching" (he wasn't; he was a ginger kitty with a few tabby markings) and then sang me a sad song about how he would just sit there in his little cage day after day and week after week ....

By the end of their carefully crafted speech, I was nearly blubbering. So of course I took him home.

I was walking through my store today when I noticed a few pots of cat grass and thought "Oh, I should grab one" ....

I'm wondering if, despite my plans, I'm going to make it through a month or two before rushing off to get another cat.

[Nunavut Pants]

Well, nobody knows how soon "fairly soon" is; that cat could easily live to 20.

Atlas was somewhere between 7 and 10 when we adopted him, according to the vets' best guesses. We had him for 11 years. He was very much a daddy's boy.

[dalesys]

My daughter still has a weekly reminder on her phone: "Call Grandpa". He died (at 95) last April 6th...
Her Corgi (Astrid 5) and I (71) are in a race for the finish line...

[MadMike]

I am sorry. I lost two cats myself recently. One of them belonged to my son, who most people don't know passed away himself a little over four years ago. The other was my little panther, who we adopted from the shelter where we volunteer, after he got returned not once, but twice. It was my wife's idea to bring him home, but he bonded with me instead of her. Go figure.

Both these cats were about 11 years old -- not young, but not super old either. Meanwhile, I have one that's almost 17 years old. He's still going strong, and so far he's outlived three cats that were younger than him.