Saying Goodbye to Minerva

I'm afraid this is a rather sad Feline Friday post. As some of you know (the ones who follow me on Facebook), I had to say goodbye to my beloved cat Minerva this Tuesday. She'd had a bad week back in January I blogged about it here, but it looked like it was just a fluke, and she was fine. Unfortunately, the issue returned after I got back from Coastal Magic on February 7th (I'm still going to put up a blog about that eventually, probably) and we've been fighting the good fight ever since. On Tuesday, we lost the battle.

Minerva 2001-20016

We still don't know for sure what went wrong, but it was likely to be some form of cancer, since all her blood tests and x-rays were fine, but she went downhill incredibly fast. She initially responded well to prednisone, but then even that stopped working and she wouldn't eat. It broke my heart, but we had a good last couple of days on Sunday and Monday (when I was already pretty sure we were at the end) and when I took her in on Tuesday, my vet and the techs and everyone were just wonderful. I miss her terribly, but it was the right thing to do to end her suffering. I put up this altar for her in the last week, and then added her picture once she was gone.

I'm not the only one missing her. I ended up adopting Minerva more or less by accident. I'd gone to the shelter to get one kitten (I swear!) to be company for the final elderly cat I had left at the time, and ended up coming home with Mystic, his sister Magic (she insisted, and that was just the first of many times she twisted me around her little paw) and their scared, sickly mother. The folks at the shelter offered to throw her in as a "bonus," without any of the usual adoption charges, because they could see that she was unadoptable. She was so frightened, it took her two years before she got brave enough to sit on my lap. Of course, then she never wanted to get off. I called her my little bonus cat.

Mystic and Magic are clearly aware that she isn't coming back, although how they know, I'm not sure. (When she was hospitalized for two days back in January, they were just fine.) Mystic isn't finishing his food--that never happens!--and Magic has been a bit clingy. But we'll hang together and get through this.

Magic, Minerva, and Mystic a few years after they got here. Mystic was already huge compared to the others. It made it easier to tell him apart from his look-alike mom.

It is my very great consolation that I was able to give her fourteen years of a good life she wouldn't have had otherwise: a loving home where she could feel safe and stay with two of her kittens (she was a very affectionate and attached mother, which not all cats are). March 8th would have been the anniversary of the day I brought her and the kittens home. It has always been a joyous day in this house, but this year the house will be a little bit emptier.

Minerva always looked so dainty next to her giant son, but she never stopped curling up with her kids.

The family together, in happier days.

This is the tough part about having animal companions, of course, and it hurts like hell. But I can't imagine my life without them and the joy and love they bring to my life.

Thank you, Minerva, for being my little bonus kitty. I miss you.

Grief and Gratitude: Saying Goodbye to Samhain

As many of you know, my cat Samhain has been battling chronic renal failure for over 6 years. She was diagnosed young--at about 5 or 6 (she was a stray I got from the shelter, so they didn't know for sure), two years after I adopted her. At the time she was diagnosed, she'd gone from a tiny 7.5 lbs to an alarming 5.5 lbs. At the time, my vet (who I adore) said she probably would have 3 years. But she underestimated the stubborn nature of my little fighter.

A couple of weeks ago, we did another set of blood tests and the results weren't good. Samhain was back down to 5.9 lbs and had become a little anemic, and developed a heart murmur. Dr. Baker said that we might have 2-3 months, February or March...maybe April, if we were lucky.

We started her on a few new meds for nausea and such and she seemed to be doing better, and I bought her a heated cat bed which she loved, since she was always cold. I canceled my trip to Pantheacon in February, and prepared to fight the good fight as long as I could.

But in this as in all things, Samhain apparently had her own ideas. She had a good day today, seemed just as always, and ate just fine. I fed her upstairs at 4 and went down to take a nap. When I went back up at 5, she was curled up in her heated bed...but she was gone. I think her heart just gave out.

Mine is threatening to do much the same right now.

All cats are special, but Samhain was one of the REALLY special ones. She was loving and sweet, never holding a grudge even when I insisted on sticking her with a giant needle. She would sit on my lap or my legs when I wrote. I'm really going to miss her.

But despite all the struggles, it was worth every moment. Every day  with her was a gift.

Goodbye, Samhain. I love you. Thanks for coming to stay with me for a time. See you on the other side.