She made it to eighteen. I didn’t realize that until I looked at the first entry in her vet records. And now she has her last entry in her records. At her age, I knew it was coming, and I’m glad it came so fast. No major visible distress until Thursday night. She tried to tell me she was dying Friday. Saturday brought labored breathing and low appetite. And she was getting stinky again. If cats stop taking care of themselves they smell horrible.
After work on Saturday Maggie and I talked. I brushed her and tried to stimulate her appetite with some catnip. She ate a little over the night and slept on her food table. She only wanted to sleep on hard surfaces. But I don’t think she actually slept. Sunday she started looking for someplace to die. She had a last full meal of raw pork. Raw pork and catfish are her favorite foods. She was a 3rd Ward Houston cat to the end.
I’d like to thank the luthier’s daughter for covering the shop so I could get off work three hours early. My employer understood that I needed to be with Maggie in her last days or hours. Since I have Tuesdays off I thought about going to the vet tomorrow, but I knew it had to be this afternoon.
Maggie had a large mass in her abdomen, it was likely cancer and had been spreading to her lungs over the last few months. The vet mentioned that Maggie was not a good candidate for diagnostic procedures and treatment at her age. I told her that Maggie and I had already discussed that this was likely a one way trip for her. And it was.
Maggie, also known as Catmo and Miss Babycat, was a damn intelligent cat. No cat I have ever known could communicate as well as she could. And she was a reason to live in times when I had no other reasons.
I’m not going to post any pictures here, but Maggie was a mostly black tortie with a white bib and chin, and three white paws. Her left arm was solid black.
I got home at an unusual time this evening. I looked at the front window expecting her to be waiting for me though I had just buried her. I expect I will be doing this for months.