It happened about a week ago. Rocky (the husky) and Midnight (the 16 year old black house cat) came face to face in what they both wanted to see as the battle to end all battles...... Rocky cornered the old cat, Midnight hissed and yowled, Shadow (the lab mix) tried to join in. But with just one swipe of the paw, Midnight left a claw embedded in Rocky's nose, dangerously close to his eye (hmmmm....no more wondering whose claw it was that almost cost Shadow her eye a few years back!) Rocky blinked in surprise and moved back just enough for me to grab his collar and haul him back to the kitchen where he belonged. Midnight stood her ground and won, as always. But it was the last time that we could afford to let them come face to face, because she started a rather rapid downhill spiral just a week or so afterward.
We said a long and heart-wrenching goodbye to our formerly spunky kitty this weekend. She became more and more frail before our eyes, surprising us when she was still alive morning after morning. This morning (Monday), she has finally given in.
Midnight came to live with us when Michael was one, Carrie was 7 and Chris was 10. A long time ago in a place far, far away. She was barely 8 weeks old and we still lived in Palatine.
There was a tiny flea-bitten motel on highway 14 in our neighborhood. It was the kind of place with a small office and numerous tiny, individual buildings, like cottages, but very dated. It didn't last too long after our story begins, but it was there long enough for our first family cat to come into our lives.
Our neighbors let us know that there were kittens there, and asked if we wanted to go and look. Just to look. I said something along the lines of "Don't expect to bring one home. Dad would NOT be happy."
The kittens weren't tame, and one was so terrified that it hid behind the couch. Not wanting to go away without seeing ALL of them, the couch was pulled away from the wall and a tiny black kitten was scooped out. Of COURSE it was black. Most of our house-pets seem to be in the black color scheme.....
Our neighbor assured us that we should have a cat. (She was right! Thanks, Fran!) :)
Chris carried that kitten all the way home, holding her close so that she didn't escape. She was "free", until you took into account the kitten shots, the supplies, the vet visits, the spaying.......
We arranged everything that the kitten needed in Chris' room, so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed by the activity of the busy household. Little did we know, we were choosing for her to become Chris' cat. She still chooses to sleep on Chris' bed and purr on Chris' lap when he comes home. With the rest of us, she is much more stand-offish, not much use for us unless SHE chooses to curl up next to us during a nap or some such show of rare affection.
Our old dog Clarabel wanted to be friends, but the new kitten would have nothing of THAT idea. Friendly Clara came up to sniff the little ball of fur, and the kitty immediately began a growl that was much too big for her tiny size with every hair standing on end. Clara whimpered and cringed, and never again tried to be friendly with that cat. This was the dog who went on to delight us by shepherding numerous litters of foster kittens around the family room, but no, Midnight would NOT be friendly with the big black dog.
When Chris moved to the basement bedroom in Palatine, Midnight's home-base was still the old 2nd floor bedroom, but she could sometimes be found sleeping on Chris' bed, high up off the floor down in that basement room. She would perch wherever she wanted to be, and look out through half-opened eyes as if to say "Bother me if you dare".....
We moved to Woodstock, disrupting the cats' routine. Sly (the 2nd black cat) did just fine, and was soon dashing outside to explore. Midnight was 13 years old by the time we moved, and spent most of the first 6 months in the back of the basement. She finally worked her way up to the 2nd floor, much to our relief. Living in a dark basement is no life for a cat!
She settled in and would come downstairs only when the dogs were closed inside the kitchen, or in their cages, or at night when they sleep by our bed. Rocky the husky doesn't shrink back from her, and when Rocky gets riled up and won't leave her alone, Shadow the lab-mix forgets the "leave her alone" command and joins in. Midnight would perch at the top of the 2nd floor steps and glare down at the 2 dogs, with her front legs crossed and her "I'm so superior to you" expression firmly in place.
If you've been to our house and noticed our cats, we've probably warned you "The cat with the collar is the nice one. If you pet the other one and her eyes get big and black, leave her alone". Midnight is the one without the collar, the one we would have warned you about. It was a very special person who could win Midnight over. That cat was like a shadow when she didn't want to be seen, slinking slowly and deliberately through a room to avoid being noticed.
The vet was concerned about her last summer, because she had lost so much weight.
She has gone through bouts of not eating and then doing just fine again over the past year.
We've gotten used to vomit and other messes on an almost daily basis. (Luckily, the floor upstairs is wood and much easier to clean than the cheap carpet in the Palatine house....)
I started paying for canned cat food because Midnight no longer paid any attention to dry food---nothing more than a disdainful sniff and then a slow and dignified turning away. The canned food I bought might agree with her for a while, and then she would start leaving messes as it came back up.
Sometimes she came downstairs to use the litter box in the basement, but more often she would find a blanket or towel that had been left on the floor upstairs and relieve herself there. You can imagine that the 2nd floor has not been the most pleasant place at times, because of "cat" stuff......messes, smells, black fur, you don't always know what you'll find anymore when you go upstairs or when your feet hit the floor after waking up in the morning......
All of this has become the new "normal" over the past year or two as she lost more and more weight.
When she turned her nose up at the special food I bought for her last week (a top brand, expensive, "specifically formulated" for cats 7 years or older), I supplemented with a can of tuna here and there, or a can of cheap food (which she ate ravenously and then later deposited on the floor of Jeremy's room). :(
She came downstairs in broad daylight on Thursday, meowing for water and acting confused. She NEVER comes downstairs during the daytime, because the dogs see her as a challenge when she deigns to descend from on high....
I weighed her on Friday when she came downstairs again, wobbling on her feet and not interested in a freshly opened can of tuna.
I called our vet from Palatine on Friday afternoon, (who has remained the vet for all of our house pets and even for the barn kitties). She wanted bloodwork done at a local clinic and possibly x-rays. Midnight didn't last that long. I knew she wouldn't be going to the local vet for any testing as I hung up the phone.
Sometimes, situations like these remind you of the compassion that is part of who your children are: Jeremy and I set up a nest of blankets for her, which she has used on and off over the past few days. Jeremy helped to search for her every time she crawled off and couldn't be readily found. Michael set up a pillow for her one night, complete with comfy towel over the top of it and bowls of water and milk (in case she wanted one or the other). I cried when I saw that little act of kindness. Everywhere she went, it seems that I opened a fresh can of tuna for her, just to entice her into taking a lick or two of liquid. There are empty cans all over the house now, eagerly finished off by Sly when Midnight could not rally herself to touch them.
I didn't think I'd be sad when her time came. You know, cleaning up cat vomit and other messes doesn't make for a happy house-keeper. Smelling canned cat food every time you come in the front door, or getting blasted with "oops, I didn't make it to the litter-box" smell when you walk upstairs.....that gets old after a while.
But she's been part of the family for 16 years. She's seen a lot, been through a lot, lasted through the years of Clarabel, hated Sly from the moment he joined the pet family, put up with Shadow who was never scared off like Clarabel was, and holds Rocky at bay until cat claws are sticking out of his face when they're done fighting.....she has been endearing in a stand-offish sort of way.
Much to my surprise, this has turned into a weekend of tearful goodbyes, plural. We said goodbye to her so many times, and the next time we checked on her, she was still hanging in there. We debated putting her out of her slow misery, and when it came right down to it, couldn't bring ourselves to end her life in any way. We continued covering her with blankets and following her through the house making her comfortable.
Hers was the life of a mere cat, but I would like to think that we gave her as much dignity as possible as she faded away.
There is a pet graveyard under the redbud tree out in the front yard. She'll join Charlie, the barn cat who was hit on the road (and who she would have hated with a passion!), and numerous pet rabbits, and we'll search the property for a white quartz stone speckled with sparkly gray and black highlights to commemorate her life.
Too many memories are welling up right now, but suffice it to say, despite the years of cat messes, the slightly-stressful naps with Midnight on top of the covers sending the silent signal "You'd better not even THINK about moving or I'll claw your ankle", the stains on carpeting, the loads of extra laundry because "I don't feel like using the litter box today", the unexpected flare of black eyes that meant "You'd better NOT be thinking of petting me right now", the cat claws left hanging out of dog faces.....she was part of our family for better for worse, and it will feel a bit empty for a while without her.
Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/
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