Kirsten
05-03-2007, 11:49 AM
http://www.catmom.de/katz/katz9.jpg
Katz - May 1, 1986 - May 3, 2000
Today, it's seven years ago that I had to let go my best friend, Katz, to the RB.
To those who do not know her yet, here's her story, as it's posted on her memorial page (http://www.catmom.de/katz/):
___________________
My beloved Katz...
...was born on May 1, 1986. Her mother Puma was an outdoor cat who lived in the garden of friends. When I lost my first cat Aysche from FIP in March 1986, they told me that their cat was pregnant and asked me if I would adopt one of the kittens. My answer, of course, was "yes".
On May 3, a warm and sunny day, I got a call: the kittens have been born. Cruelly enough, there were only two of them left - the other two of the litter have been killed right after birth because only two were going to be adopted; my Katz, a little tux girl, and one brother, a tabby like the mommy cat.
The same day, I went to their garden to meet my new kitten. My sister came with me. The moment I held this tiny little creature in my hands was truly remarkable, something I will never forget. I had never seen such a young kitten before, and she won my heart right from the start.
I visited her several times during the next weeks, and I saw her growing up. On June 17, when she was 6 and a half weeks old, I brought her home - way too young as I know meanwhile, but in 1986, it was still a common thing to take kittens away from their mommies at the age of 6 or 7 weeks...
The first time wasn't easy. Whether it was the early seperating from her mother, or the fact that she now had to live the life of an indoor cat I don't know, but she was truly a rebel in her first years. She was destructive and kind of aggressive, and my hands and arms were always bloody those days. Even though she calmed down when she got older, she was never a lap cat, and nobody was allowed to touch her but me. I think with the knowledge I have today, I could have made her life a bit easier.
But we always had a very strong bond. Sometimes she would hold her forehead against mine, and it always seems to be a magical act to me. She loved to sleep in my bed, and often she lied on my belly or back. She loved it when I held her paw.
She was having health problems almost all her life. At the age of 5, she was overweight and had asthma for a while. When she was 7, she started losing all her teeth. She also had to deal a lot with stomach flu and diarrhea, and during her last years, she threw up almost every day. The vet never found out what it was, but she suspected it was colitis. I always feared she might have had cancer, but this has never been confirmed. Her bloodwork was always fine.
For many years, she had feline acne and her chin looked bald and bloody. Later, she had many bald spots all over her body from excessive licking, and her belly was completely naked. Also, she seemed to have problems with her vision. Her eyes looked kind of blurry.
She never complained, and in her last years, she seemed to be happier and more relaxed compared to her earlier days. But in February 2000, she became terribly ill: First it seemed to be a stomach flu, and maybe it was, but she threw up about 70 times in 24 hours. It was a weekend, and when I brought her to the vet on Monday, she got infusions. After that, the stomach flu symptoms disappeared, but she never really recovered from this.
From now on, she never let me sleep at night. She always sat beside me, put her paw into my face and made these little "rrrr"-sounds. I think she felt that her time soon would come. I knew she needed my attention, but it was a hard time because I got no sleep those months, so I was hardly myself at work. I was a nervous wreck.
In the spring of 2000, I noticed she had troubles breathing. She also started coughing when I held her. At Easter 2000, it became especially bad, so I brought her to the vet ER. There, she was diagnosed with severe heart problems (Feline Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy), and lots of fluid in her abdomen and lungs. She got strong meds immediately, but her sick bowels weren't able to absorb the medicine. But I did not give up hope.
9 days after the diagnosis, Katz jumped onto the kitchen counter. I was cooking and as usual, she watched me. She had just eaten and played. Suddenly I noticed she was acting strange. Her forelegs were moving back and forth, and she was staring in the air, just as if she was taking a look into another world. She did not respond to me. When she eventually jumped down from the counter, she was stumbling and fell from one side to the other, she couldn't walk anymore.
Within seconds, I made the decision. I just knew it was time. I called my vet, and she told me to come over, even though it was almost 9 pm. While I took her to the vet, I apologized to my little girl all the time, but I couldn't stand seeing her suffering this way.
Half an hour later, she left this world, with her head on my shoulder...
* * *
There's one strange thing I will always remember. When Katz grew older, I often used to wonder if she was still me in the millennium night. I don't know why, but it has always been important to me to start the new millennium with my beloved Katz. When that night came, she would come into my bed, crawl under the duvet and rested her head next to me on the pillow, just like a human. She stayed like that all night, and it was VERY special. She never did that before, and never did it again. It was indeed a magical moment.
A couple of months later, she was no longer with me. She went to the Rainbow Bridge on May 3rd, 2000; two days after her 14th birthday and exactly 14 years to the day that I first saw her. We truly had a relationship that was very special.
______________________
Mein Kleines, you'll be forever in my heart, and I will always love you,
Kirsten
Katz - May 1, 1986 - May 3, 2000
Today, it's seven years ago that I had to let go my best friend, Katz, to the RB.
To those who do not know her yet, here's her story, as it's posted on her memorial page (http://www.catmom.de/katz/):
___________________
My beloved Katz...
...was born on May 1, 1986. Her mother Puma was an outdoor cat who lived in the garden of friends. When I lost my first cat Aysche from FIP in March 1986, they told me that their cat was pregnant and asked me if I would adopt one of the kittens. My answer, of course, was "yes".
On May 3, a warm and sunny day, I got a call: the kittens have been born. Cruelly enough, there were only two of them left - the other two of the litter have been killed right after birth because only two were going to be adopted; my Katz, a little tux girl, and one brother, a tabby like the mommy cat.
The same day, I went to their garden to meet my new kitten. My sister came with me. The moment I held this tiny little creature in my hands was truly remarkable, something I will never forget. I had never seen such a young kitten before, and she won my heart right from the start.
I visited her several times during the next weeks, and I saw her growing up. On June 17, when she was 6 and a half weeks old, I brought her home - way too young as I know meanwhile, but in 1986, it was still a common thing to take kittens away from their mommies at the age of 6 or 7 weeks...
The first time wasn't easy. Whether it was the early seperating from her mother, or the fact that she now had to live the life of an indoor cat I don't know, but she was truly a rebel in her first years. She was destructive and kind of aggressive, and my hands and arms were always bloody those days. Even though she calmed down when she got older, she was never a lap cat, and nobody was allowed to touch her but me. I think with the knowledge I have today, I could have made her life a bit easier.
But we always had a very strong bond. Sometimes she would hold her forehead against mine, and it always seems to be a magical act to me. She loved to sleep in my bed, and often she lied on my belly or back. She loved it when I held her paw.
She was having health problems almost all her life. At the age of 5, she was overweight and had asthma for a while. When she was 7, she started losing all her teeth. She also had to deal a lot with stomach flu and diarrhea, and during her last years, she threw up almost every day. The vet never found out what it was, but she suspected it was colitis. I always feared she might have had cancer, but this has never been confirmed. Her bloodwork was always fine.
For many years, she had feline acne and her chin looked bald and bloody. Later, she had many bald spots all over her body from excessive licking, and her belly was completely naked. Also, she seemed to have problems with her vision. Her eyes looked kind of blurry.
She never complained, and in her last years, she seemed to be happier and more relaxed compared to her earlier days. But in February 2000, she became terribly ill: First it seemed to be a stomach flu, and maybe it was, but she threw up about 70 times in 24 hours. It was a weekend, and when I brought her to the vet on Monday, she got infusions. After that, the stomach flu symptoms disappeared, but she never really recovered from this.
From now on, she never let me sleep at night. She always sat beside me, put her paw into my face and made these little "rrrr"-sounds. I think she felt that her time soon would come. I knew she needed my attention, but it was a hard time because I got no sleep those months, so I was hardly myself at work. I was a nervous wreck.
In the spring of 2000, I noticed she had troubles breathing. She also started coughing when I held her. At Easter 2000, it became especially bad, so I brought her to the vet ER. There, she was diagnosed with severe heart problems (Feline Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy), and lots of fluid in her abdomen and lungs. She got strong meds immediately, but her sick bowels weren't able to absorb the medicine. But I did not give up hope.
9 days after the diagnosis, Katz jumped onto the kitchen counter. I was cooking and as usual, she watched me. She had just eaten and played. Suddenly I noticed she was acting strange. Her forelegs were moving back and forth, and she was staring in the air, just as if she was taking a look into another world. She did not respond to me. When she eventually jumped down from the counter, she was stumbling and fell from one side to the other, she couldn't walk anymore.
Within seconds, I made the decision. I just knew it was time. I called my vet, and she told me to come over, even though it was almost 9 pm. While I took her to the vet, I apologized to my little girl all the time, but I couldn't stand seeing her suffering this way.
Half an hour later, she left this world, with her head on my shoulder...
* * *
There's one strange thing I will always remember. When Katz grew older, I often used to wonder if she was still me in the millennium night. I don't know why, but it has always been important to me to start the new millennium with my beloved Katz. When that night came, she would come into my bed, crawl under the duvet and rested her head next to me on the pillow, just like a human. She stayed like that all night, and it was VERY special. She never did that before, and never did it again. It was indeed a magical moment.
A couple of months later, she was no longer with me. She went to the Rainbow Bridge on May 3rd, 2000; two days after her 14th birthday and exactly 14 years to the day that I first saw her. We truly had a relationship that was very special.
______________________
Mein Kleines, you'll be forever in my heart, and I will always love you,
Kirsten