Ours is a two cat household, but one of them is new(ish) on the scene. In the beginning, there was Twitchy and Molly–a brother and sister from the same litter way back in 2002. I met them the day they were born and knew their mommy well. They came to live with me when they were just tiny kitties (as soon as they were old enough to leave mom). As you know, Twitchy is black, white and grey and Molly was a pale ginger. They were besties who loved to snuggle each other.
But in October of 2013, Molly started drinking (and peeing) a ridiculous amount (like, gallons) and I just knew it was diabetes. Unfortunately, I was right. But we learned how to give her twice-daily insulin shots and started her on a grain-free, low-carb wet food diet. She improved for a while, but then even though the diabetes was being well-controlled, one thing after another started to go wrong. She had bouts of pancreatitis, arthritis, and eventually kidney problems. Towards the end, she was becoming so bedraggled, she didn’t even look like herself and she was clearly not enjoying herself either. She started to have trouble jumping up on the couch, she peed in my bed a couple of times and she was living with her head in her water bowl. It was heartbreaking.
In late June, 2014, we booked a Vets To Go appointment to have a vet come to our house and put her to sleep. We made salmon, fettucine alfredo and shrimp cocktail for her last supper. We watched The Aristocats and I slept downstairs on the couch with both cats, because I am crazy and oh my god, this is turning into a long, sad tale. The next day at noon I held her while the vet gave her two shots and she drifted off with Twitchy and Andrew next to her. Okay there, the worst part is over.
I didn’t lose my cool until afterwards when the vet gave us some time alone with her before the “Pet Heaven” person came to take her away. In all seriousness, I count this among my proudest accomplishments. I didn’t want to let her go, but I really didn’t want her in any more pain. And then I read something a vet had written about deciding when it’s time to let go that really hit home, it was something like, “even weeks too early is far better than an hour too late.” I really didn’t want to leave it so long that she’d suffer and I’d be cornered into a panicky decision and horrible final memories…so I made the decision to put her down. I wanted to be there for her when she went…but I knew I couldn’t do that if I was upset and, in turn, making her upset, so I stayed strong for her. And if you stay with me, I promise I’m getting to the point of this post…
It was hard on all of us, including Twitchy who was especially sad and lost without his lifelong buddy. We all needed time to get used to life without Molly, but Twitchy never really seemed to adjust to being a single cat. He sad-meowed us to death and was really insecure. So in March, 2015, we decided to adopt him a new friend. We wanted to give a good home to a slightly older cat who was probably less desirable on the adoption scale, but still young enough to bring some friskiness to the household. We went in to look at a cat who was supposed to be a good match, but ended up not being terribly interested in us, and then they mentioned a new arrival that we could also meet. A little orange girl they called Gems. They had me at orange. She was super sweet and very nicely asked to come home with us.
She was very nervous at first and hid under the couch a lot. She was hesitant to explore her surroundings and there was a bit of hissing and swatting on both parts, but nothing major. Mostly, she was just timid and reserved. She liked attention, but on her own terms, in small doses and with no sudden movements or loud noises. She’d been through the system..and she was jaded.
8 months later, she’s gone totally soft. Constant head-butts, climbing all over us, glued to my side, flopping onto her back demanding unending belly rubs. Sometimes she flops so hard you can hear it: floomp, LOVE ME! And in the last couple of months especially, it’s been absolutely unreal what a big sucky baby she has turned into.I wonder if it’s just that she’s finally totally comfortable and secure in her new forever home, or if the pregnancy hormones have anything to do with it. Maybe all that extra estrogen is permeating our whole home ? Lucky Andrew.
After all, the shit monsters’ behaviour was actually one of the reasons I peed on a stick in the first place. Twitchy, in particular, became infatuated with my belly very early on. I hope they’ll forgive me for saying this, but it wouldn’t have surprised me from a dog, but I wasn’t sure cats would sense anything. Yet, there was Mr. T, lying horizontally across my stomach and kneading…and licking…and kneading…and rubbing his face on it like I was filled with catnip. Gemma wasn’t quite as enthusiastic early on, but now I wonder…has she realized she’s about to be a middle child and is milking her last days as the baby of the house for all they’re worth?