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We had to put our kitty to sleep today. She was somewhere around 20 years old, and had been on the whole remarkably healthy. It was a surprise, she had only really been sick today; but with a cat as old as she was we knew we were lucky to have her for so long.
Cindy was little black kitty, a neighborhood stray who adopted my Grandmother (who had a knack for getting adopted). She, along with Randy her adopted dog, lived with Grandma during her declining years, and with me when I went to live with Grandma and help her out those last few years.
When Grandma passed away, I remember some of her friends asking us quite seriously, "What are you going to do with the animals?" The question never occurred to us because we (Mom, Dad, Bro and myself) always knew that we would take care of them. We often joked that they 'came with the house' as part of Grandma's legacy.
Both Randy and Cindy lived almost five years after Grandma, and gave us lots of fun (and in Randy's case, challenges). I personally never thought they'd last that long, and have been glad that they did, and that they liked us enough to stick around.
We had to put Randy down in January. Cindy and Randy never fought, and would often sit together on their beds. Cindy in particular, really liked him and would often come to him and lick his ears. I don't think Randy ever really enjoyed that procedure, but he tolerated it quite magnanamously.
Just a couple weeks ago, Cindy had nabbed two mice and brought them into the house as honored gifts. Even at 20 she still hunted; and in her heydey she was doom for any small animals in the area.
She managed to win my mother over -- Mom had never really been around cats, and is very allergic to them. She would never dislike an animal, but I was surprised at the extent to which Mom became attached to the cat. Cuddling was never an option for Mom, but she made up for it in talking to her and taking care of her. She was always the one to read the cat's moods, put out her food, and play doorman letting her in and out the back door.
There was no doubt it was Cindy's time; but I am going to miss the little kitty.
Cindy was little black kitty, a neighborhood stray who adopted my Grandmother (who had a knack for getting adopted). She, along with Randy her adopted dog, lived with Grandma during her declining years, and with me when I went to live with Grandma and help her out those last few years.
When Grandma passed away, I remember some of her friends asking us quite seriously, "What are you going to do with the animals?" The question never occurred to us because we (Mom, Dad, Bro and myself) always knew that we would take care of them. We often joked that they 'came with the house' as part of Grandma's legacy.
Both Randy and Cindy lived almost five years after Grandma, and gave us lots of fun (and in Randy's case, challenges). I personally never thought they'd last that long, and have been glad that they did, and that they liked us enough to stick around.
We had to put Randy down in January. Cindy and Randy never fought, and would often sit together on their beds. Cindy in particular, really liked him and would often come to him and lick his ears. I don't think Randy ever really enjoyed that procedure, but he tolerated it quite magnanamously.
Just a couple weeks ago, Cindy had nabbed two mice and brought them into the house as honored gifts. Even at 20 she still hunted; and in her heydey she was doom for any small animals in the area.
She managed to win my mother over -- Mom had never really been around cats, and is very allergic to them. She would never dislike an animal, but I was surprised at the extent to which Mom became attached to the cat. Cuddling was never an option for Mom, but she made up for it in talking to her and taking care of her. She was always the one to read the cat's moods, put out her food, and play doorman letting her in and out the back door.
There was no doubt it was Cindy's time; but I am going to miss the little kitty.
