Farewell Penelope

I’ve never really written about her. My furry little chatterbox – the female counterpart to Ulysses, my more-than-male cat….

I wrote recently about how Ulysses/Spud was failing and possibly dying. Perhaps in begging for his life, I cheated the fates. Well, yesterday, they came for Penny instead. We had to put her down. She simply went into severe kidney failure. The vet told me she had never seen numbers so high. She took blood work from her on Friday and we did not have the results back until yesterday.

Over the weekend, my Love took me away for a spontaneous overnight adventure in Columbus because I have been so down lately and I really needed a break.

We came home Sunday to Penny obviously in a lot of discomfort…at some points literally screaming in pain. The lab results could not have come soon enough – but I think I knew in my gut the answer….that Penny was dying. By yesterday afternoon she was lying in the litterbox unable to walk anymore…

There are no words for when you are sitting, holding your ailing, aged cat and whispering love into her fur while she cries. There are no words for helping the vet while she puts the euthanizing agent into the ‘picc’ line after asking if I am ‘ready’ – ready to let her go…a companion of over 15 years. Spud’s surrogate litter mate. How can you ever really be ready to let go of someone you love?

Erin and I both cried like babies. Erin had never lost a pet before and we helped each other and comforted each other.

Penny you will be missed. I know I bought you as Spud’s ‘pet’ and I hope you will forgive me for that. I know you took your revenge on him that time you ambushed him and nearly put his eye out – so perhaps that evened the score a little. My little ‘panic’ Penny - you were such an adorable little ball of fur. I hope you are busy chasing those bandits in the gulch and pulling Timmy out of the well (personal/inside joke) up in kitty heaven. I think Spud may be joining you soon. You both saw me through so much – thank you for all the unconditional love you brought to our family. You were loved greatly.

No title for this post...

I was toying with:

“Born under a bad sign”
“If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all”
“Maybe I whine to hear my own voice”
“When we last left our heroine….”

But I settled on:
“Hello Darkness My Old Friend” – thank you Paul Simon….

…and I have come to talk with you again…

To me vision implies a clarity of sorts. There is none to be found with me or for the situations I find myself involved with/in/facing.

The one closest to my heart involves my son, the law, and something so incredibly insidious that I don’t even know where to begin. I can not seem to help him, and as a parent, that is the one thing you seem to always want to do for your children. Of course with him being 22 going on 22 there is only so much I can do. So mainly I just cry and pray, and hope that somehow, God, providence, the fates, will take pity on him and help him, heal him, make him sit up and take notice…before he ends up in a place from which he can never return…

Sounds dire, sounds melodramatic…but when someone you love is in this kind of situation that is how it feels…the ‘mommie’ thing doesn’t help either.

My daughter is similarly suffering and only time will tell how her latest decision is going to impact her and her family. I am upset and hurting for this too…but at a loss as to how best to help – other than be a listening ear and support as best I am able.

Then there’s my cat Ulysses (a.k.a. Spud) – he is an amazing pet. He is the best $10 I have ever spent. He thinks he is a dog, he has character, he is intelligent, he is adorable, he always loved playing and trying to socialize with other animals. He was leash trained and he knows what the word ‘walkies’ means – in fact I believe he understands everything I say. Now, at the age of 16 years, he seems to be dying. Now he is weak and sleeps all day and although he is purring and seems happy – he is definitely wasting away. (He used to weigh close to 20 lbs, now he is down to 11...)

I spent over $300 at the vet the other day to find out his liver is ‘probably’ failing. He has not eaten a ‘full’ meal in over a week. This is a cat that you had to watch your hand if you tried feeding him. He was like the ‘Bumpeses’ dogs in ‘A Christmas Story’, in fact there was a ‘steak incident’ recently where we had steak and we had left the table and he jumped up on the table, stole the steak and then jumped down shaking the steak, viciously, trying to break it’s neck and attempting to eat the entire piece.

The vet told me the ‘treatment’ for this is to insert a feeding tube (hundreds more dollars) and not something Spud would ever tolerate. Our final attempt (instead, cause there is no way I am going to put a feeding tube in him), is now going to be to give him a steroid shot to see if he will respond and get his appetite back – I am beside myself and wondering who I am buying time for – him, or me? I asked myself this one night ago as I held his now fragile body in bed while he lie next to me purring away. I was crying into his white fur…asking him to stay a little longer…

So crosses to bear…could we please stop giving me so much to bear? I am strong seriously I am - I swear to friggin' God I am – but this shit is wearing me down…