Sunday, July 24, 2011
R.I.PToday is my cat's one year anniversary of her death. She was just 7 years old.
We still don't know what exactly caused her death... I just know that her death left a huge gap in my life. I remember when I was 10 years old, bothering my mum on and on that I wanted a dog, a cocker spaniel to be exact, but we already had two dogs and she kept saying no. After a while, I thought I'd ask her if she could let me get a cat. And she immediately said yes. "It'll help against mice. Yeah, you can get a cat". My mum phoned her Auntie, if she had any kittens, and my Auntie said that she knew a woman who had a load of kittens she wanted to give away. So went to her shop, and there I see her. Rigidly standing up on a pile of old coke craters, her tail pointed in the air. And I wanted her. She was gorgeous.
When she was 2 months old, I was able to get her. My aunt and me went over, and got her, and then went to my aunt's place. Thicksy, as I named her, only wanted to stay in my arms, I was the only thing that was familiar to her now. She slept in my arms, she was my lovely.
It's hard to remember when someone was so alive, and spoilt, and every rook and cranny in the house was her place, is no longer here.
A few years before her death, my dog Lucy had a stroke, and we had to put her down, because her jaw was jammed tight and would die naturally starving to death. A slow tortured death. Mum forgot to give my cat her shot. And she immediately caught a cough. The vet gave us pills to give her; tiny, barely there pills that we had to halve. But she wouldn't take them. We begged the vet to see if he had any shots instead, but he said there were none. So my cat kept coughing. We tried so many times to make her take the pills, put them in her favorite food, force them down her throat, melt the pills and give them to her through a syringe (without the needle), but she only managed to take 3 halves.
On the 21st of June at night, my cat collapsed and peed herself, and couldn't breathe properly. I remember I started crying, and tried to research what might be wrong. I thought she might have been poisoned, but she hadn't. Her lungs were filling up with water. Mum stayed up all night with her. First thing in the morning they took her to the vet. The vet said to keep her in a cool room, with a fan on her, and occasionally give her a tiny bit of water to drink. The next day, the vet came round to give her a shot, to help her feel better, and said she was looking much better. I was gaining a little hope, even though I told my mum, she would die.
On the 24th of June, whilst I was at work, she died. She choked to death. She was terribly dehydrated, and her lungs were full of water.
The vet thinks she might have had cancer, because she lost so much weight in just a few weeks, and was barely eating.
We still don't know.
I don't want to remember her in her sufferance, I want to remember her full of live, spoiled and loved. She was a lady. The way she washed herself, the way she sat up, the way she walked. Everything. She was perfection herself.
I still love you Paps, and I always will. You'll always be in my heart, and if I could do anything to bring you back, I will. Anything at all. I love you too much.