Has lung cancer....about 15 years old...Burial Monday June
30, 2014..
Heartbroken....I will miss her desperately....This is going to
take a long time to get over...
On Labor Day weekend in 2002 (probably September 1), a
couple stopped by the Yuma Humane Society where I had just been
brought. They were just “looking “ at the cats. At that time I
was very small and gray in color. I heard Humane Society people
tell the couple I was 6 weeks old, but I knew better. After
seeing both of them look at me, I knew they would not be leaving
without me. I found out that their names were Roger and Pat. I
adopted them and they became Mom and Dad. From that day on, I
was one of the family.
When we got to their home, I was surprised to find there was
already another cat there. I later found out her name was
Tigger, she was spoiled, and the last thing she wanted was a new
kitten. Her nose was out of joint for about 4 months. I was
“quarantined” in the bathroom for the first week or so until
they took me to the vet for a checkup.
It took them a while to come up with a name for me. Mom came up
with the name Abby. Once she told Dad, he thought it was a great
name so that’s when I became “Abby”. I was very small, very
gray, and had a stubby tail that they kept making fun of. I
showed them when it grew out to be really long and fluffy!
On my first visit to my new vet, Dr. Cheryl Haugo, she told Mom
and Dad that the Humane Society was mistaken about my age. Dr.
Haugo said I was maybe 3 weeks old when they adopted me, not 6.
I already knew that.
During the first nights (after quarantine), I crawled between
Mom and Dad’s pillows at night (That was Tigger’s spot, but
since Tigger’s nose was out of joint and she wasn’t coming to
bed, I took advantage of it!). In those days, I had a habit of
sucking my rear paw (gimme a break, I was only 3 weeks old). I
guess I was a bit noisy and would wake them up. I heard them
joking in private about me being their little Paw Sucker. I
didn’t mind.
I loved to “run” everywhere. I also loved to watch the bathtub
water. One evening when Mom was rinsing out the tub, I came
racing into the bathroom and leaped onto the edge. I misjudged a
bit and ended up going into the tub. Although there was no water
in the tub, it was wet, and there I was – on my belly, legs
outstretched and sliding all around that tub.
It seemed like I was always hungry. After getting ready for
work, Mom would go out and fill our food bowls. I was usually
still in the bathroom on the vanity, but as soon as I heard that
food being poured into those bowls, I would race out there so I
could chow down!
When I was very young, I loved going to the vet. I was quite the
little princess. Everyone in the office came by to see me and
“ooh” and “ahh” over me. I loved it! During one visit, when one
of the assistants was going to take my temperature, the
assistant somehow hurt me. I jumped about 2 feet and then jumped
off the table and under a chair. Ever since that visit, I HATED
going to the vet. Mom said I made sounds she had never heard a
cat make before. I was very defensive with anyone who tried to
touch me – even Mom and Dad. After that visit, taking my
temperature was almost impossible. During one visit Dr. Haugo
commented on taking my temperature, “You pick you fights, and
taking her temperature is not one we need to pick today.” It was
around this time that the vet nicknamed me “Crabby Abby”.
As I grew, Tigger and I became “playmates” (I guess you can call
it that – sometimes she played kind of rough), but I always knew
my place and would roll over on my back to surrender when I felt
it was necessary (seems like that was quite often). I must say I
did enjoy surprising Tigger every once in a while. I also really
enjoyed stealing treats from Tigger. When Mom or Dad gave us
some treats, I gobbled mine up fast and went over to see what
Tigger had left. Since Tigger was so slow about eating, she was
usually still on her first treat. I would reach my paw in there
and pull one over, gobble it up, and go in for another. Every
once in a while Tigger didn’t want to share and she would pop me
on the head with her paw. I would then wait patiently until she
was done and lick up any leftovers. Sometimes Tigger would just
sit there by her treats and make me wait (she was ornery like
that sometimes).
Dad built us a tall cat stand in the bedroom for us. I loved to
play on it and would lay on it for hours. During the first year,
when Mom or Dad came into the room, I couldn’t see them too good
and would have to roll my head around trying to get a good focus
on them. Later, Dr. Haugo told them I had some kind of build-up
on my eyes (I don’t remember exactly what she said), but it was
like I was looking at the world through dirty glasses.
I admit it. Sometimes I wasn’t too coordinated. One morning when
I was about 4 yrs old, I was running to the kitchen from the
bedroom, I ran through the hallway, through the living room and
headed into the kitchen. I misjudged the doorway and hit the
wall. Darn, that hurt! I went into the family room, gave a
little cry, then made my way back to the bedroom and laid on the
cat stand the rest of the day. Later that day, Mom and Dad found
out that one of my upper teeth had punctured my upper lip and my
lip was still hooked on the tooth. There was no way they could
remove it, so off to the vet we went. Dr. Haugo wasn’t there and
another vet (Dr. Jill something) saw me. After the vet and the
assistant decided whose job it was to get me out of my Sherpa,
the vet came in with welding gloves on to assess the situation.
They took me to the back, sedated me, and removed my lip off the
tooth. I let them know I wasn’t totally out – I growled at them
the entire time.
I loved Christmas! I loved all the Christmas decorations. When I
was younger, I would climb the Christmas tree as Mom put it
together. It was fun watching Mom unpacked the decorations.
Tigger and I would climb on and in the boxes. Afterwards, I
would lay under the tree with my red, white, and green worm
mouse (Weird looking toy, but I liked it!).
I was always a shy cat, and I definitely knew my place around
Tigger. I don’t think I was “afraid” of her, but I knew better
than to push her. She intimidated the heck out of me.
In 2011 we all moved from Arizona to Kansas. I wasn’t crazy
about the move, but I think I handled it pretty well. I did have
some anxiety about the new house. It was a lot bigger than we
had before, but I eventually adjusted and it felt like home.
I always liked Mom or Dad to pick me up and cuddle for a bit,
but I was also ready to be put down. I especially enjoyed laying
on the newspaper when Dad was trying to read it. I also really
liked crawling under the sheets when Mom was making the bed. I
would lay on my back, stick all four feet up – making a tent –
and Mom and I would play.
In August 2013 Mom and Dad went on a cruise to Alaska. I hadn’t
been feeling well but didn’t let them know. Michael was checking
in on Tigger and me, but we’d run and hide when he came over, so
he didn’t see much of us. At any rate, I became sicker and
sicker. By the time they got back from the cruise, I had lost
about 4 lbs. As soon as they got home, they realized I wasn’t
well and off to see Dr. Albertson (my new vet) we went. By this
time I had jaundice and wasn’t eating. Dr. Albertson ran a blood
test, and said I probably had hepatic lipidosis, but it could be
more serious, too. The important thing was that that I needed to
start eating. Mom starting feeding me special food with a
syringe 4-5 times a day but I still didn’t gain any weight. Dr.
Albertson recommended additional tests to determine what was
going on and suggested I see a specialist. Everyone realized it
was something more serious because Crabby Abby would just lay
there and let them examine me. It was off the Kansas State
University Vet Clinic. On October 2nd, I was admitted to the ICU
at K-State and tests were run. Dr. Patterson did an ultrasound
of my liver, a bone marrow biopsy, and more blood tests. It was
determined that I had the big “C” (bone marrow cancer). Not good
news, but I was feeling better after the IV of fluids, and they
put me on some new medicine. I sure hated taking the medicine.
On October 3rd, Mom and Dad picked me up and took me back home.
I did feel better but I was losing my energy and having trouble
walking. I didn’t need to walk much because Mom or Dad would
either be holding me or would carry me. I liked laying on their
chest and resting. By now I was down to about half of my
original weight. Life wasn’t much fun anymore.
During October, I had my good days and bad days. Later in
the month the bad days were far outnumbering the good. I
think on October 25th we all realized something had to
change. On October 26th Dr. Albertson and his assistant
Ally came to the house. I thought, this is odd, a house
call?
I always thought Mom and Dad felt I was special, but after the
last three months, I knew it. My fur was wet more than
once from all their tears. As Mom and Dad comforted me, I
quickly went to sleep.
Alana has gone to be with her friend and my first poodle
Toby after a little rest. She put up with me administering
medication for kidney failure and I am not sure if it was for me
or her.
She was a devoted friend and companion. While not a lap cat, she
was very affectionate and sweet. She was a rescue cat and I had
her for eleven years. She died younger than most of my animals,
but I was assured it was her time. The vet was so compassionate
and caring. I left after she was under and did not have to see
her pass.
She let me know it was time, when she stopped eating on
Monday. She could still run and jump a little, but nothing could
tempt her to eat. I will miss by baby and I know she will be
thrilled to see her playmate and friend Toby, who passed in
2010.
Here she is when she was healthy and deemed too fat by one vet.
To me she looks wonderful. I alternate between being sad and
relieved that she no longer is ill.
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