Easy one Lois. Right?
Easy one Lois. Right?
We have three cats. Purrcy, Wilson, aka Wee Willie, and Elvis. Two of them have special diets. Purrcy is overweight, and Elvis has Kidney disease. We purchased three “chip” cat dishes. Each of the boys have computer chips embedded on them. The bowls have been set up so only the correct “chipped” cat can open the door. The cat enters his neck under the little arch and the door opens only for him. Therefore Purrcy can’t cheat and eat all his food and his brothers also. And Elvis gets his special kidney food and Willie gets normal cat food.
But they CHEAT! Elvis will open his door and when he walks away Purrcy will quickly enter and eat the rest of his food. They have conspired against us by using kitty team work. Now I have to stand by and referee meal time so everyone gets only his food.
22 pounds of soft. He’s going on a diet. Just need to have someone help me put him in the carrier. 🙂
…nothing. It’s still hard after all these years to reach out for someone in the hour before daylight and find nothing. Nothing to touch. Nothing to snuggle up to. Not even the heavy breathing that characterized her final days. She had been my faithful companion for the last fifteen years.
Lucy also had an attitude problem. I would joke with my friends that she even walked with an attitude. It was like her body language said “You want a piece of me? Well bring it on mister.” She became ill a couple of years ago and her state of health was deteriorating quickly. In her last days she became very irritable at the slightest little change in her daily routine. I now had to feed her myself. And she hated taking her pills that the doctor had ordered for her. “What do they know about my state of heath. I bet they look it all up on Goggle and then regurgitate the information hoping that I would understand what the hell they were saying.” On her last medical appointment the doctor had prepared me for the worse case scenario.
Her death came very quickly. I put her in the hospital the night before and the doctors called me late the next afternoon to say that I should come down to the hospital quickly to say my goodbyes.
As I entered the hospital I was greeted by a very somber technician who lead me to a “grieving room”. This room smelled of death. There was no hiding or masking of that smell. After a few minutes they brought her body in. She looked wide awake. Too wide awake. She had her leg bandaged in preparation for inserting the needle that would take her to another world. In a few minutes it was over. I stayed and prayed for what seemed like days. I don’t usually cry but I sure was making up for that in a big hurry as the tears would not stop.
When I was ready to leave they had already put her in an urn. She now rests on top of the fireplace mantle with our other deceased cats.