Sad Things Come In Threes

Last July, I wrote about loosing my wife’s cat of 15.5 years. It was hard, but the pain was tempered by the long time she was with us and the understanding that she was sick and hurting and her time had come.
At the time I mentioned in passing that we had 4 cats. What I didn’t write about was that a short time later, my oldest daughter’s cat, Midnight (at left), which was almost 5, was having a hard time finding the litter box. While visibly healthy and happy (well, Midnight wasn’t ever particularly happy. She was a bit like the Oscar the Grouch of cats), she was slowly destroying our carpets, throw rugs and whatever else got left on the floor. We took her to the vet and tried some medication, but it became clear that this wasn’t working out. We took her to the local shelter, hoping she might get adopted, but knowing that once we told them that her litter habits were sporadic, she may not make it.
It was hard on Jessica because she had gotten her when she wasn’t yet weaned. We bottle fed her for the first few weeks. Jess loved Midnight, even though Midnight wasn’t overly affectionate. Though she’s a very strong girl and understood why it had to happen, it was still hard.
That meant we were down to 2 cats, Emily’s Cookey and the hitchhiker, Cally (remind me to tell that story some time). Not too long later, however, we got two new kittens, one for Jess and one for Audrey who hadn’t ever had a pet of her own. Two little black boys, Twitch and Boo. Those two were a riot, chasing each other around and playing. Even when they’d calm down, they’d be together, laying in a chair one’s arm over the other. Twitch, on the right with the white belly and paws, was Jess’ and all-black Boo belonged to Audrey.
Well, wouldn’t you know, on Monday we noticed Boo was throwing up and had slowed down considerably. By this evening when Maria got home, he was quite lethargic. Off to the vet he went.
The prognosis was not good. He was seriously dehydrated and had lost 0.6 of his 3.6 lbs. He either had a virus or an obstruction. IV fluids would be needed right away and a night in the hospital and a lot of money.
It one of those decisions a Dad hates to make. There’s just not money to do what needs to be done, yet it’s so hard to say no. Mom was with him at the vet and she didn’t want to let go, but understood why we should. In the end, after further talking with the vet, a recovery would be very expensive and was, frankly, a long shot. That made the decision a lot easier, but still hard. Sigh.
Audrey was home with me, finishing homework. We hadn’t had supper yet, so I asked her to go to McD’s drive through with me. It was a diversion, as the real mission was to go say goodbye to Boo. In the car, I told her what was happening. We had done all we could, but Boo wasn’t coming back home, but we wanted her to be able to say goodbye. After a lot of tears, I carried my brave little girl into the vet’s and she held her kitty for the last time and said her goodbyes. There were more tears as we left and more at bed time and probably more to come. Even Twitch has been crying out, wondering where his brother and playmate has gone.
Boo only spent a couple of short months with us. There will be a new kitten, but for now we’ll just mourn.

2 thoughts on “Sad Things Come In Threes

  1. You replaced him too soon. I could have given you several. We’ve got some nice calicos now but I’m actaully going to keep one.

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