Hey everybody. My oldest cat died Tuesday. He was one of two that I inherited from my mom when she died. I had family over Sunday and I told them to say their goodbyes to Panther, because this was going to be his last week. I knew he was on his last legs, and I told them I was HOPING he'd die peacefully, here, at home, in the house he's been in for ~11 years, but if he didn't, then by the end of the week I'd take him to my vet...for THAT visit. I called my vet Monday and made an appointment for Thursday afternoon
Tuesday morning I couldn't find him--and there was this distinct, spooky, SILENCE in the house. The other cats were very subdued. After a lot of crawling around on the floor throughout the house, I found him somewhere he never goes, under my bed. He was huddled down there, but still alive. I pulled him out and put him on a soft blanket on my bed. He was cold, so I snuggled him up. I used a syringe to put a drop or two of water at a time in his mouth, because I knew he was thirsty. Throughout the day I'd go back in there to check on him. I'd stroke him, give him a few drops of water, and tell him "it's okay to go to sleep now...Grandma's waiting for you!" Finally, around 7:30pm at my final check, he was gone.
Although I wasn't ridiculously attached to him, as I am and have always been with my own pets, I loved him and cared about him, and I'm really grateful he died peacefully and quietly in my room, and not in the sterile, cold environment of the vet, with people and needles and all that stuff.
It's sad around here with him gone. He was a VERY nurturing cat--really quite unusual for a male. When I first trapped two feral kittens and brought them inside, Panther took them under his wing, so to speak. He groomed them, showed them the ropes around here, taught them where the food and water and litter boxes are, and really bonded with them, one in particular. That one is totally lost right now.
When I get his ashes back from my vet I'm going to bury them in the same area we put some of Mom's ashes, and planted a memorial rose bush over them. It comforts me to think of them reunited.
Tuesday morning I couldn't find him--and there was this distinct, spooky, SILENCE in the house. The other cats were very subdued. After a lot of crawling around on the floor throughout the house, I found him somewhere he never goes, under my bed. He was huddled down there, but still alive. I pulled him out and put him on a soft blanket on my bed. He was cold, so I snuggled him up. I used a syringe to put a drop or two of water at a time in his mouth, because I knew he was thirsty. Throughout the day I'd go back in there to check on him. I'd stroke him, give him a few drops of water, and tell him "it's okay to go to sleep now...Grandma's waiting for you!" Finally, around 7:30pm at my final check, he was gone.
Although I wasn't ridiculously attached to him, as I am and have always been with my own pets, I loved him and cared about him, and I'm really grateful he died peacefully and quietly in my room, and not in the sterile, cold environment of the vet, with people and needles and all that stuff.
It's sad around here with him gone. He was a VERY nurturing cat--really quite unusual for a male. When I first trapped two feral kittens and brought them inside, Panther took them under his wing, so to speak. He groomed them, showed them the ropes around here, taught them where the food and water and litter boxes are, and really bonded with them, one in particular. That one is totally lost right now.
When I get his ashes back from my vet I'm going to bury them in the same area we put some of Mom's ashes, and planted a memorial rose bush over them. It comforts me to think of them reunited.
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