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11 Years, 6 Months
Mar. 28th, 2011 05:51 pmEleven years and six months. That's how long I had DB.
Not bad for a cat on his third owner.
I promised him no more moves, no more new owners, and I kept that promise faithfully. And he returned that faith with incredible devotion - not only did he come to me whenever I started crying, for the first year or so he refused to let M pet him in my sight, presumably for fear that I'd think he was disloyal. If she reached for him, he'd move away... but when I went to sleep, he'd go upstairs and soak up all the love she'd give him. After a while, when he realized that she would literally pet him for hours, he'd sit on the sofa letting her skritch his chin while staring at me with a "THIS is how it's supposed to go, you know" expression.
We noticed the tumor last night (and this in a cat who gets oral medicine twice a day, so it was very fast growing, although it may explain his sharp meows over the last couple of weeks as he got dosed.) It was confirmed as cancer early this afternoon. I was determined not to let his life be a horror to him -- I kept two of my ferrets too long and still feel guilty -- so this afternoon, as he purred in my arms and M stroked him, the vet used the port in his foreleg to let him slip away while I promised no more claw clippings, no more medicine, no more being hissed at by Kaylee or body-blocked by Mulder.
He was still warm behind the ear when I kissed him for the last time. His eyes were half open, and I swear, he looked just like he did when he was half asleep and looking over his little kingdom.
( Photos of my big orange boy )
Not bad for a cat on his third owner.
I promised him no more moves, no more new owners, and I kept that promise faithfully. And he returned that faith with incredible devotion - not only did he come to me whenever I started crying, for the first year or so he refused to let M pet him in my sight, presumably for fear that I'd think he was disloyal. If she reached for him, he'd move away... but when I went to sleep, he'd go upstairs and soak up all the love she'd give him. After a while, when he realized that she would literally pet him for hours, he'd sit on the sofa letting her skritch his chin while staring at me with a "THIS is how it's supposed to go, you know" expression.
We noticed the tumor last night (and this in a cat who gets oral medicine twice a day, so it was very fast growing, although it may explain his sharp meows over the last couple of weeks as he got dosed.) It was confirmed as cancer early this afternoon. I was determined not to let his life be a horror to him -- I kept two of my ferrets too long and still feel guilty -- so this afternoon, as he purred in my arms and M stroked him, the vet used the port in his foreleg to let him slip away while I promised no more claw clippings, no more medicine, no more being hissed at by Kaylee or body-blocked by Mulder.
He was still warm behind the ear when I kissed him for the last time. His eyes were half open, and I swear, he looked just like he did when he was half asleep and looking over his little kingdom.
( Photos of my big orange boy )
