She never regained consciousness after the MRI. She started breathing some
on her own, but not enough to get sufficient oxygen without the machine. After
several hours all the vets said there was no way she was going to regain
consciousness, and also that the mass in her brain was so big, after the
neurologist actually looked at the pictures rather than just the report, that
she said even if it was an infection rather than a tumor there was nothing she
could do. She said that it was so large that the slight increase in brain
pressure from the anesthesia made her brain herniate and part of it go out
through the back of her skull. Gray and I stayed with her for an hour or
so while she was on the breathing machine, and talked to her and told her how
much we loved her, and reminded her of what a good life she had had and how
happy she had been, and told her we did not want her to suffer, and asked her
forgiveness, and then euthanized her. We took her home wrapped in a blanket and
I slept next to her last night and then this morning we buried her next to the
stream and waterfall in our back yard, in the woods, where she used to sit for
hours watching the waterfall. We are in total shock. I have been
fussing for months over Lucy, with her IBD and bladder stones, and Patches, with
her teeth and her UTI's, and have paid less attention to Ginger because she
seemed to be doing so well. Just Saturday morning we were laughing at her
because she was racing around the house, chasing a pen, and then bothering Lucy
to play with her. Apparently she had a large brain tumor then and it just
had not affected an important part of the brain yet. When she started acting
sick Saturday night and I took her to the ER on Sunday, and then to another ER
on Monday and had her seen by an internist, the vets all told me that she had
probably just ingested something and had mild gastroenteritis and it would work
itself out. But she had a brain tumor the whole time.
I do not know how old she was. If the shelter was right, then she was
almost 7. I had her almost 4 years, and they said they thought she was
about 3 when I adopted her. I think she had been there a year or two and had
come in as an adult, with a litter of kittens who subsequently died from
FeLV. I think it was her personality that kept her going for so
long. She was always happy, had no malice toward anyone, and acted like a
kitten her whole life. I have never in my life seen a cat who played so
much. She literally was fascinated by everything, and saw everything as a
toy. She loved watching the toilets flush, and the printer print, played
with our shoelaces when we put our shoes on, chased pens and peanuts and a
little plastic Easter egg around the house. Even at the first ER on
Sunday morning, when she was feeling too sick to eat, I got her to play in the
examination room while we waited for her test results, with a piece of string
tied to a q-tip. Last April, when her teeth got so bad she could not eat and
needed 10 removed surgically, and right afterwards when she had a bad URI that
lasted for weeks and I had to syringe feed her, she was still playing the whole
time. She was joyful, and the life of our house. The house feels so empty
without her.
She was also Simon's best friend. Until he died last February, the
two of them played all day long. She used to go up to him and put her arm
over his neck, like putting him in a head lock, and then the two of them would
tumble and chase each other, run up the cat tree at the same time while batting
at each other, chase each other up the tree in their yard. She used to climb
that tree, and one here in our new house as well. She loved watching the
waterfall in the woods behind our house, and staring at the frogs in the little
pond in the backyard during the summer. She never hunted, but she did catch one
of the frogs one time and carried him around until we saw her and got her to
release him unhurt. She truly bore no malice toward anyone, had very
little fear, and was always ready for an adventure. When she was
recuperating last spring from her dental surgery and URI and I brought her down
to my mom's so I could tend to my horse Pepsi as she was dying, my mother was
amazed that she was not at all scared of being in a new house and just walked
around the room exploring. She stayed at my mom's for a month, while we packed
our house and moved down here. She was alone a lot in the room there, and took
to watching tv with fascination. She would meow at my mom to turn the tv
on. My mom would work on the computer in that room, and she would bat at
the cursor as it moved across the screen. My mom used to flush the toilet
in the attached bathroom just to entertain her. She would get these
obsessions with a particular food and refuse to eat anything else but that one
food for months, and then suddenly switch to a different food. I would
have to buy her cases of whatever her current obsession was. Sometimes I would
try to hold out and try feeding her something else, because I had run out
of her food or just because I thought she should not eat the same thing all the
time, but she would hold out for a whole day until I gave in and went and got
her what she wanted, or threw away whatever it was I was trying to get her to
eat and opened up a can of what she wanted. She loved baby food, and got
it every morning with some supplements. Except once Lucy and Patched could not
eat baby food, starting a few months ago, I got lax and sometimes went a day or
two without giving it to her, which of course I now think about sadly and wish I
had not done.
She lived longer than I should have expected. But when I read that Rudy
lived to 13, I of course hoped she would too, as she seemed to be doing so well.
She probably had a brain tumor while I was hoping for her to live
another 6 years. It is why I am superstitious. I felt anxious as soon as I
felt myself hoping for them to live to 13, like something bad was going to
happen to one of them soon. And it did.
I loved her, and still do, and miss her terribly.
Michelle
