So, I did have this cool story about a date I went on this Saturday (the cool part being that I was on a date) but when I got home my roommate (and one of my best friends ever), Inga, told me her very old cat was sick.
Bernadean, who's original, much less appropriate name was Amanda, is a Siamese, something mix who is about 21 or 22 years old. My two cats are 18 and 17, so we have a house full of old damn cats. Bee, as I call her, is a feeble, staggering, nearly blind, deaf, biter, with a sweet center (once you get past the bitch) and the softest fur of any cat ever.
I've only know her for a few years and Inga's only had her for the last four. Inga's mom had her a couple before that, and before that, was some asshole family that decided they needed to put her to sleep because they were moving. Yes, Bee was old even then, but Inga's sister, who's a vet, decided to talk the family out of it and adopt the cat herself, before passing it along to the mom, then Inga.
Inga loves her cat. Inga has ataxia, as regular readers know, which means she uses a wheelchair because of poor balance. Bee also has poor balance, but is able to walk, jump somewhat, and is in no pain.
Once Inga and I moved in together, Bee and my cats got along like Bush and people with dark skin. Bee, being the bitchy bitch that she is, would try and bite my cats, and there would be paws flying all over the place. Since all the cats are old and declawed (in the front only, a long time ago, and I wouldn't declaw a cat ever again, so chill out), no damage was done.
Lately, the have been getting along fine and there have been rare, magical occasions where all three have curled up on or against me while I was on the couch.
Well, Bee died today.
Not just died, but got kidney failure and died a painless, but slow death. Bee started losing a lot of weight a few days ago, her breath got awful, and she stopped eating and drinking. We didn't notice anything serious until last night, when I got home from the date, and Inga said Bee hadn't gotten up all day.
I went and fetched her from the bed and she was nearly lifeless. Eyes mostly closed, little boney chest moving up and down, and little six-fingered paws trying to reach out for something to play with.
We held on to her that night and I put her into bed next to Inga, convinced she would go in the night. She didn't and I held her in my lap when I got up in the morning, while Inga was at work. Bee started vomiting a little during the day and I called Inga and said we should take her to her sister.
I picked up Inga from work, with little Bee wrapped in blankets and we drove to her sister's vet office. I felt shitty taking her back to the place she had escaped death from, but I knew this time, at least, it was legit.
We took her in, held onto her in a little room and cried for a while. Inga's sister came in, gave her a shot, she exhaled a couple of times, then relaxed... really let go... her eyes actually opened up, and she died.
Inga is going to have her cremated and put into this cool little cat statue, all Egyptian style. Bee got a lot of extra love and attention the last few years and the last few months especially. I am very, very sad right now, but very happy I got to know her better.
I think it would have been easier if she would have just died in the night sometime. This was hard, and strangely sudden, despite how old she was. This was hard, holding a frail, four pound bag of bones and fur that used to be a cat and wishing she would just get up and get better or even take a drink of water.
I'm so happy Inga got to hold her in her lap on the way to the vet and in the little room. I can't imagine how guilty Inga would have felt if Bee, her partner in disability, would have died when she was at work.
I miss that cat, but my heart breats for Inga who lost the first cat she's had as a grown-up, her wobbly teddy bear of adulthood.
At some point I may share some funny stories of Bee, like when she used to step in my glass of pop (like, clear to the bottom) or when she burrowed head first into pudding containers to lick the bottom or when she'd fall off of stuff. But, for now, here's a pic of her last night, in Inga's lap, when she had just enough consciencness left of look up at the camera. There are a couple more in my "Girls" folder (with Inga, of course).
My faith doesn't allow me to believe in animal heaven, but missing Bee makes me hope I'm wrong.
Bernadean, who's original, much less appropriate name was Amanda, is a Siamese, something mix who is about 21 or 22 years old. My two cats are 18 and 17, so we have a house full of old damn cats. Bee, as I call her, is a feeble, staggering, nearly blind, deaf, biter, with a sweet center (once you get past the bitch) and the softest fur of any cat ever.
I've only know her for a few years and Inga's only had her for the last four. Inga's mom had her a couple before that, and before that, was some asshole family that decided they needed to put her to sleep because they were moving. Yes, Bee was old even then, but Inga's sister, who's a vet, decided to talk the family out of it and adopt the cat herself, before passing it along to the mom, then Inga.
Inga loves her cat. Inga has ataxia, as regular readers know, which means she uses a wheelchair because of poor balance. Bee also has poor balance, but is able to walk, jump somewhat, and is in no pain.
Once Inga and I moved in together, Bee and my cats got along like Bush and people with dark skin. Bee, being the bitchy bitch that she is, would try and bite my cats, and there would be paws flying all over the place. Since all the cats are old and declawed (in the front only, a long time ago, and I wouldn't declaw a cat ever again, so chill out), no damage was done.
Lately, the have been getting along fine and there have been rare, magical occasions where all three have curled up on or against me while I was on the couch.
Well, Bee died today.
Not just died, but got kidney failure and died a painless, but slow death. Bee started losing a lot of weight a few days ago, her breath got awful, and she stopped eating and drinking. We didn't notice anything serious until last night, when I got home from the date, and Inga said Bee hadn't gotten up all day.
I went and fetched her from the bed and she was nearly lifeless. Eyes mostly closed, little boney chest moving up and down, and little six-fingered paws trying to reach out for something to play with.
We held on to her that night and I put her into bed next to Inga, convinced she would go in the night. She didn't and I held her in my lap when I got up in the morning, while Inga was at work. Bee started vomiting a little during the day and I called Inga and said we should take her to her sister.
I picked up Inga from work, with little Bee wrapped in blankets and we drove to her sister's vet office. I felt shitty taking her back to the place she had escaped death from, but I knew this time, at least, it was legit.
We took her in, held onto her in a little room and cried for a while. Inga's sister came in, gave her a shot, she exhaled a couple of times, then relaxed... really let go... her eyes actually opened up, and she died.
Inga is going to have her cremated and put into this cool little cat statue, all Egyptian style. Bee got a lot of extra love and attention the last few years and the last few months especially. I am very, very sad right now, but very happy I got to know her better.
I think it would have been easier if she would have just died in the night sometime. This was hard, and strangely sudden, despite how old she was. This was hard, holding a frail, four pound bag of bones and fur that used to be a cat and wishing she would just get up and get better or even take a drink of water.
I'm so happy Inga got to hold her in her lap on the way to the vet and in the little room. I can't imagine how guilty Inga would have felt if Bee, her partner in disability, would have died when she was at work.
I miss that cat, but my heart breats for Inga who lost the first cat she's had as a grown-up, her wobbly teddy bear of adulthood.
At some point I may share some funny stories of Bee, like when she used to step in my glass of pop (like, clear to the bottom) or when she burrowed head first into pudding containers to lick the bottom or when she'd fall off of stuff. But, for now, here's a pic of her last night, in Inga's lap, when she had just enough consciencness left of look up at the camera. There are a couple more in my "Girls" folder (with Inga, of course).
My faith doesn't allow me to believe in animal heaven, but missing Bee makes me hope I'm wrong.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
elkaen:
I'm glad I finally get to see Bee. She is beautiful, even at the end. I'm sorry I didn't read this entry sooner. I had been wondering if she had gone yet. Love to your girls (the furry and not so furry ones) and you. So sorry! 
it_thing_hard_on:
I fixed that. The not updating thing I mean.