My Beloved Reindeer
I lost one of my Christmas kitties tonight.
I wrote the story of them finding me, (way back in Baltimore in December 1993) months ago, it remains unpublished. But tonight I am too distraught to dig through the computer files, to proof read their story, and to post it. So I am going to just say;
When I found my Christmas kitties they were about a pound each (so I would estimate them to have been about 1 month old). I found the four of them on Dec 18, 1993. So I named them after Santa's reindeer.
The orange male was the biggest and the boldest. He was Comet.
The next biggest was a white and brown tabby. He was shy but affectionate. I named him Donner.
The smallest, frailest, and most timid was a little grey tabby female. She was Blitzen.
And last there was the small white and black tabby Dasher. It took me about a month before I could touch her. But once she and I got acquainted she was the sweetest, gentlest, most agreeable cat you ever met. She wanted nothing more than to be picked up, snuggled under your chin, and loved. She would begin to purr the minute you touched her. She has never been an out-going adventurous kind of cat. She was instead "the always the stay very close to home and only let Krista love me," kind of cat. I think that of all of the kitties I have ever had she was the one who loved me the most. She was the one cat who never tired off being held, and she never had anything else she would prefer to do then be in my arms.
For the last 2 years we have been battling her failing kidneys. It has been a long slowly descending slope.
As I prepared to leave for my parents house on Monday evening I noticed that she was not getting up to come to the food bowl. When I picked her up she seemed "dull" and lethargic. Her weight was still adequate, her coat still luxurious, but she just had lost that sparkle in her eye. We were planning on leaving for my parents house, a 4 hour drive to Va., on Wednesday morning and I didn't want to leave my pet sitter with a sick kitty, so she came into work with me on Tuesday morning.
A few minutes after arriving at work, and a blood test later, my suspicions and fears were confirmed and I realized that her failed kidneys were now ka-put. Her BUN (blood urea nitrogen, a kidney enzyme) number wouldn't even register on the in-house blood machine after being diluted 10:1. Her phosphorus was waay beyond the high end. Which explained the terrible drooling and bad mouth odor, and why she wouldn't eat. As has been consistent with all of my kitties; the rest of her blood was perfect. I seem to always have the kitties that have "rotten kidneys that have failed completely," but the rest of them is perfectly fine.
I kept her in the clinic Tuesday and for the three days that we were away because I hoped that the i.v. fluids would help dilute out the poisons her kidneys couldn't flush out. I also didn't want to leave her for the house sitter to fret and worry over. The analytic side of me knew deep down that all of this was probably a lost cause. But in a last ditch effort to at least try to make her feel better, and not lose hope on the chance of a miracle, I left Dasher at the clinic. She was left with very explicit medical and affection giving instructions in the hopes I could buy her a few days of feeling better.
I picked her up on Friday on the way home from Va. She could barely recognize me, and I could see how terrible she felt. She was almost lifeless. We took her home to be with us and in her room. She immediately curled up in her bed and slept. I knew she was happy to be back home but I knew she had very little time left. I spent the day reminding her how much I loved her, and how lucky I felt to have known her for these last 19 years.
She hasn't purred once since Monday.
She couldn't walk to her litter box, and she could barely lift her head to me today. So in tears and cuddling her like I have for the last 19 years I said goodbye to her tonight. Christmas Eve.
She leaves behind Donner, my last Christmas kitty, and me, who can't believe I got to share so many great Christmas's with her.
I wrote the story of them finding me, (way back in Baltimore in December 1993) months ago, it remains unpublished. But tonight I am too distraught to dig through the computer files, to proof read their story, and to post it. So I am going to just say;
When I found my Christmas kitties they were about a pound each (so I would estimate them to have been about 1 month old). I found the four of them on Dec 18, 1993. So I named them after Santa's reindeer.
The orange male was the biggest and the boldest. He was Comet.
The next biggest was a white and brown tabby. He was shy but affectionate. I named him Donner.
The smallest, frailest, and most timid was a little grey tabby female. She was Blitzen.
And last there was the small white and black tabby Dasher. It took me about a month before I could touch her. But once she and I got acquainted she was the sweetest, gentlest, most agreeable cat you ever met. She wanted nothing more than to be picked up, snuggled under your chin, and loved. She would begin to purr the minute you touched her. She has never been an out-going adventurous kind of cat. She was instead "the always the stay very close to home and only let Krista love me," kind of cat. I think that of all of the kitties I have ever had she was the one who loved me the most. She was the one cat who never tired off being held, and she never had anything else she would prefer to do then be in my arms.
For the last 2 years we have been battling her failing kidneys. It has been a long slowly descending slope.
As I prepared to leave for my parents house on Monday evening I noticed that she was not getting up to come to the food bowl. When I picked her up she seemed "dull" and lethargic. Her weight was still adequate, her coat still luxurious, but she just had lost that sparkle in her eye. We were planning on leaving for my parents house, a 4 hour drive to Va., on Wednesday morning and I didn't want to leave my pet sitter with a sick kitty, so she came into work with me on Tuesday morning.
A few minutes after arriving at work, and a blood test later, my suspicions and fears were confirmed and I realized that her failed kidneys were now ka-put. Her BUN (blood urea nitrogen, a kidney enzyme) number wouldn't even register on the in-house blood machine after being diluted 10:1. Her phosphorus was waay beyond the high end. Which explained the terrible drooling and bad mouth odor, and why she wouldn't eat. As has been consistent with all of my kitties; the rest of her blood was perfect. I seem to always have the kitties that have "rotten kidneys that have failed completely," but the rest of them is perfectly fine.
I kept her in the clinic Tuesday and for the three days that we were away because I hoped that the i.v. fluids would help dilute out the poisons her kidneys couldn't flush out. I also didn't want to leave her for the house sitter to fret and worry over. The analytic side of me knew deep down that all of this was probably a lost cause. But in a last ditch effort to at least try to make her feel better, and not lose hope on the chance of a miracle, I left Dasher at the clinic. She was left with very explicit medical and affection giving instructions in the hopes I could buy her a few days of feeling better.
I picked her up on Friday on the way home from Va. She could barely recognize me, and I could see how terrible she felt. She was almost lifeless. We took her home to be with us and in her room. She immediately curled up in her bed and slept. I knew she was happy to be back home but I knew she had very little time left. I spent the day reminding her how much I loved her, and how lucky I felt to have known her for these last 19 years.
She hasn't purred once since Monday.
She couldn't walk to her litter box, and she could barely lift her head to me today. So in tears and cuddling her like I have for the last 19 years I said goodbye to her tonight. Christmas Eve.
She leaves behind Donner, my last Christmas kitty, and me, who can't believe I got to share so many great Christmas's with her.
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