Maresche
03-20-2006, 02:08 PM
We sent our eldest cat to the Rainbow Bridge today. She just stopped eating over the weekend and there was nothing that would tempt her. This morning our vet said she could run bloodwork to find out what was going on but that there was a good chance she couldn't do anything about it. Hana was hyperthroid with renal disease so we knew our time was short, we just didn't think this short.
This is something my husband wrote about her:
This morning Maresche and I had our longhaired old cat Hana put down. Over the weekend she was just doing gradually worse and worse. Maresche took her in to the vet this morning and they just couldn't do anything to help her. So we took the only course of action left to alleviate her suffering. She's gone now.
I know Maresche isn't taking this well, but as for myself I'm taking it pretty hard. Hana was really my cat, and my first one at that. I first came across her while we were doing volunteer work for the animal shelter in the next county over. Back then her name was Hemlock, and all the shelter workers said she was a rather anti-social, persnickety cat. Still, I made sure to visit her every weekend we worked there. Eventually she took a shine to me, I suppose, and would even crawl into my lap and let me pet her; something she wouldn't let anyone else do.
I've been told time and again that she's not what one would call an attractive looking cat. Hell, I've been told that she's downright ugly. But I didn't see her like that. Beneath her mottled brown and black coat with the white patch on her chest and white tips on her feet I saw one of the most loyal and affectionate cats I've ever come across. She was a good companion, and a unique character who provided a sharp contrast to the attitudes of our other two cats, Terra and Misao.
In remembering about her, I remember most of all why I chose her to adopt instead of some cute little kitten. I looked down at her sitting in my lap one day and I told myself, "I want to give her a better life for as long as she's still around." I'd like to think I did that, and I'd like to think that she would have thanked us for it in the end.
Goodbye Hana, my first cat. You'll always be with us, and you won't hurt anymore.
This is something my husband wrote about her:
This morning Maresche and I had our longhaired old cat Hana put down. Over the weekend she was just doing gradually worse and worse. Maresche took her in to the vet this morning and they just couldn't do anything to help her. So we took the only course of action left to alleviate her suffering. She's gone now.
I know Maresche isn't taking this well, but as for myself I'm taking it pretty hard. Hana was really my cat, and my first one at that. I first came across her while we were doing volunteer work for the animal shelter in the next county over. Back then her name was Hemlock, and all the shelter workers said she was a rather anti-social, persnickety cat. Still, I made sure to visit her every weekend we worked there. Eventually she took a shine to me, I suppose, and would even crawl into my lap and let me pet her; something she wouldn't let anyone else do.
I've been told time and again that she's not what one would call an attractive looking cat. Hell, I've been told that she's downright ugly. But I didn't see her like that. Beneath her mottled brown and black coat with the white patch on her chest and white tips on her feet I saw one of the most loyal and affectionate cats I've ever come across. She was a good companion, and a unique character who provided a sharp contrast to the attitudes of our other two cats, Terra and Misao.
In remembering about her, I remember most of all why I chose her to adopt instead of some cute little kitten. I looked down at her sitting in my lap one day and I told myself, "I want to give her a better life for as long as she's still around." I'd like to think I did that, and I'd like to think that she would have thanked us for it in the end.
Goodbye Hana, my first cat. You'll always be with us, and you won't hurt anymore.