My beautiful calico, Trixie, was put down yesterday at the vet’s office. She was 14 years old.
Trixie wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bin, but she was the sweetest, most loving cat I’ve ever owned. She never met a person she didn’t like, which I found most unusual. She loved belly rubs, and being brushed, and sleeping on my head. She adored children and would go belly up for them if they just looked at her. She and Ralph, a tortie, maintained a good relationship from the minute I brought them home together as kittens from the shelter. Many tongue baths were shared between them.
The last couple of years have been a challenge for the cats, since we added dogs to our house, but Trixie, as usual, made friends with the poodle and I found them sleeping together more than once. (We don’t let the cats mix with the other 2 dogs as they have strong prey drives).
Ralph is kind of lost right now, searching the house for her friend. I don’t know if Trixie was ever smart enough to realize it when Ralph was out of the house, but Ralph is a smart one and knows something is wrong. I hope she’ll eventually adjust.
Trixie suffered from kidney problems her whole life, and in the end that’s what got her. She was wasting away, even though she was eating, and I was having trouble watching it, even though the vet assured me she wasn’t in pain. We had her on subcutaneous fluids for about the last 6 weeks. Yesterday morning, she squatted on the carpet in front of me and peed, and then almost fell over. (She has never had an accident before in her life). I knew it was time. I don’t think she weighed more than 4 pounds when I brought her in.
I don’t feel bad about the decision to put her down, but its so hard to actually take the action. I watched her slip away peacefully, and I hope that she wasn’t scared or in pain at all.
She joins my other cats Radha, Cleo and Rags in that place in my heart reserved for those gone but never forgotten.
