Pumpkin of Shadow
Nov. 21st, 2017 08:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoJust to get the holidays off to a fine start . . . . We had to put Shadow to sleep today. She had acute pancreatitis and was very jaundiced, and her liver was affected. Blood tests showed that she wasn’t getting better. More treatment would have meant that she’d have to stay in the hospital with a feeding tube. The vet was trying to sound positive, but she didn’t seem very optimistic that Shadow would recover even with aggressive treatment. When we went to the hospital, we spent some time with her while we waited for the vet, and I was shocked by how much she had deteriorated in such a short time. She was not happy at all. We felt she had already suffered a lot, and it was better for her to go now. This was so sudden. Just like that, no more Shadow.
I don’t think I’ll ever want another cat. I’ve been through this five times now, not to mention the Diva’s old horse Dandy, and the Nipper’s guinea pigs, and the cat and guinea pig that I loved when I was a child. I just can’t take any more. They come and they go, but the going gets harder. If a black cat showed up on my doorstep, I would not turn it away, but otherwise, not.
Shadow was saved several times. First she was adopted from the wild by my friend and fellow writer, Judith Berman. Then we took her when Judith had to be out of the country and couldn’t bring a cat. Shadow came to Michigan with us, and while we were staying in our rented house for the first year, she escaped to the outside during a snowstorm. We searched everywhere for her for several days, but couldn't find her. Then, in the middle of the night, as if was snowing heavily again, I woke up and thought I heard a mew outside. I plunged into the drifts barefoot, in my pjs—it seemed like a good idea at the time—and followed the sound into the darkness. Way in beneath the cedar hedge, there was a shape like a little bombe glacee, thickly frosted with snow. I dove in and grabbed her, and carried her back into the house, much against her will, and thawed her out. I wish we could have saved her this time, too, but it was not to be.
She lived happily with us for more than ten years, always comfortable and well pleased with herself. She loved to sit on the back porch and watch the birds and chipmunks. She enjoyed sleeping in luxury on the guest bed, basking in front of the fireplace, and curling up under the bookcase next to the hot air vent. The Sparrowhawk was her faithful servant who fed her every morning before work and cleaned her litterbox. She disdained laps, but was a shoulder-sitting cat, and would drape herself over me from behind as I sat on the couch, and purr in my ear. She enjoyed the company of Tron and the Lumberjack when they lived here, and would let the Lumberjack tease her into undignified shenanigans. She was a very good little cat, and we will miss her.
I don’t think I’ll ever want another cat. I’ve been through this five times now, not to mention the Diva’s old horse Dandy, and the Nipper’s guinea pigs, and the cat and guinea pig that I loved when I was a child. I just can’t take any more. They come and they go, but the going gets harder. If a black cat showed up on my doorstep, I would not turn it away, but otherwise, not.
Shadow was saved several times. First she was adopted from the wild by my friend and fellow writer, Judith Berman. Then we took her when Judith had to be out of the country and couldn’t bring a cat. Shadow came to Michigan with us, and while we were staying in our rented house for the first year, she escaped to the outside during a snowstorm. We searched everywhere for her for several days, but couldn't find her. Then, in the middle of the night, as if was snowing heavily again, I woke up and thought I heard a mew outside. I plunged into the drifts barefoot, in my pjs—it seemed like a good idea at the time—and followed the sound into the darkness. Way in beneath the cedar hedge, there was a shape like a little bombe glacee, thickly frosted with snow. I dove in and grabbed her, and carried her back into the house, much against her will, and thawed her out. I wish we could have saved her this time, too, but it was not to be.
She lived happily with us for more than ten years, always comfortable and well pleased with herself. She loved to sit on the back porch and watch the birds and chipmunks. She enjoyed sleeping in luxury on the guest bed, basking in front of the fireplace, and curling up under the bookcase next to the hot air vent. The Sparrowhawk was her faithful servant who fed her every morning before work and cleaned her litterbox. She disdained laps, but was a shoulder-sitting cat, and would drape herself over me from behind as I sat on the couch, and purr in my ear. She enjoyed the company of Tron and the Lumberjack when they lived here, and would let the Lumberjack tease her into undignified shenanigans. She was a very good little cat, and we will miss her.
oh honey no
Date: 2017-11-22 05:52 am (UTC)so many hugs. i hope you're having as many good cries as you need.