Michelle, this is just so awful and so
sudden – I just can’t stop crying reading your email – I wish
I could find words to make you feel better – Michelle, the only thing I know
is that, there is something beyond the connections we have with our babies on
this earth… even though she left her body, there is something beyond that
we can see, there is even stronger spiritual connection --- and I know that it is
there,,, so, please don’t be too lonely, though you may not be able to
see and you may not be able to hold her in your arms anymore,, her spiritual existence
is there and very strong and even stronger –
Love and hugs to you and your baby Ginger
Hideyo and all of my four legged babies..
From:
[EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]
On Behalf Of Barb Moermond
Sent: Wednesday, February 22, 2006
10:12 AM
To: felvtalk@felineleukemia.org
Subject: Re: Ginger is gone
My heart is breaking with yours. What an incredible girl Ginger
was and what a beautiful tribute to her special life with you. She and
Simon are back together now and healthy and happy and playing, pausing only to
look at you and how you're doing. I'm so sorry you had to make the
decision. GLOW to light her way and ease your hearts. Our thoughts
and tears are with you and Gray and your fur-kids....
<<<<<<<<<<HUGS>>>>>>>>>>>
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
wrote:
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Date: Wed, 22 Feb 2006 11:13:30 EST
Subject: Ginger is gone
To: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
CC: [EMAIL PROTECTED], [EMAIL PROTECTED], [EMAIL PROTECTED],
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
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.
Barb+Smoky the House Puma+El Bandito Malito
"My cat the clown: paying no mind to whom he should impress. Merely living
his life, doing what pleases him, and making me smile."
- Anonymous
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