2022
Charlie was the smartest cat choice I ever made. All my cats have been wonderful, but in all truth, Aurora was something of a lucky "guess." Max was not the best fit for apartment life. Bob was better. However, he is somewhat unbalanced, being skittish to the nth degree.
When I got Charlie, I had just binge-watched The Dog Whisperer. So when I went to the Greater Portland Animal Refuge League, I kept Millan's advice (for dog adoptions) in mind. I paid attention to personality and vibe, not just "ahhh, soooo cuteeeee."
In a cage of several kittens, Charlie was curious but not spastic. Friendly, not too shy.
She fit into the household like no other cat (so far). She was perfect for Bob. They were the first cats I've had who never had problems with each other. Aurora tended to ignore Max and Bob when they annoyed her. Max would get aggressive with other cats, including Aurora. Bob has a billion triggers and hides.
The circumstances of her illness were somewhat traumatizing and unforeseen (though not in retrospect). However, in many ways, the decision was easier.
Charlie was only 8-1/2, which for me is very young. She likely suffered from feline hepatic lipodosis, which affects female cats (more than males) over the age of 7. It has no known cause. It can be linked to an underlying cause--which I suspect is true in this case. It often kicks in after a stressful event.
This spring, Charlie was sleeping more than usual, even for an aging cat. Otherwise, she behaved much the same. This summer, our apartment building underwent extremely noisy construction while I was away at work. Within two days, Charlie was no longer eating or drinking to the point where she became jaundiced.
Some of this I saw coming. Some I didn't. A year ago, if anyone had asked, I would have said that Charlie would be the cat who outlasted all my others. Not so. Her poorer health was likely several months old but her decline was rapid, less than a week. My interventions were unsuccessful.
I couldn't take her to my regular vet, which was all booked up. So I took her to a local PetMedic, which types of services have apparently expanded greatly in the last 8 years! I was impressed. Charlie's condition was explained to me matter-of-factly. No blame. Two options were fairly presented. However, from the doctor's tone, it was clear that Charlie had no chance, really, of recovery and that euthanasia would be kinder.
I was unnerved by the experience since it was so entirely unexpected. But 25+ years as a cat owner makes a difference. This time around, I don't question my decisions as I did with Max.
I am a big believer in companion cats--I've always owned a male and female (both fixed). Consequently, I intended to get a kitten over Independence Day weekend to keep Bob company when I return to more on-campus teaching in the fall.
However, I realized Saturday morning that skittish Bob may or may not have been grieving. He was reverting to his nuttier side. He could not go a full two weeks without a new sister. 24-hours was bad enough. 2 weeks would make introducing a new cat into the household nearly impossible.
I also determined, rather to my surprise, that I didn't want a kitten. Kittens are cute and delightful and exhausting. I decided to go for a 1-year-old cat.
I went right when the League opened. In 8 years, the location has been entirely renovated. The changes are FANTASTIC! I am highly impressed. I have always recommended the Greater Portland Animal Refuge League. I do so again with an exclamation mark!
I walked in--I saw a cat in the new and improved cages area through a glass partition. I said, "That cat has the right vibe."
I got permission to go into the cages area. The cat I saw was the first cat I'd selected online: Chloe.
She comes from Georgia. She has had at least one litter of kittens. She has been fixed and has all her shots. She looks more like the cat I grew up with, Chica, than any of my other cats. She is curious, independent, surprisingly sociable, and fearless without being aggressive. (She does like to chase Bob--I am utilizing my Millan techniques to stop this behavior.)
I'm keeping her name. I informed her in the car that if she had been named, "Bubbles or Snowflake, I'd be giving you a middle name." But Chloe is a great name for a cat who has no qualms about her place in her new home.
Bob has qualms. Frankly, I have qualms. Chloe has none. She is a notable and worthy successor to Charlie.
* * *
2014
Aurora was 19-1/2 years old, the oldest cat I have ever known personally. The decision to euthanize was easier than with my cat, Max (see below). Max was 14, which is within the expected range but seemed relatively young to me (I grew up with a cat that lived to be 3+ years more). I wasn't prepared to make THAT decision. Consequently, I put off making it far too long.
I refused to let Aurora decline and suffer as badly. When she stopped eating, I immediately begun to watch for other signs. This past Saturday, I made the decision to wait until after the weekend. It was the right decision since I got to take her to our regular vet: The Cat Doctor. It also meant that both she and I were ready. The decision was still difficult (it is never easy!), but comparatively easier than with Max.
Living without her has been far more difficult. Aurora was my "first" cat. (I don't count Sidney, my cat in high school. Aurora was the first cat for whom I paid the vet bills!)I got Aurora from a private owner when I was living in Washington State (1995). She was actually too young, being barely 6 weeks. (Many shelters won't let kittens go until after 8-10 weeks). She literally fit into the palm of my hand. When I was at work, she would creep into the gaps of my box spring mattress. The first time I came home and couldn't find her, I desperately called her name. I heard "mew mew mew" and turned around to find her scampering to me from under the bed.
At night, she would sleep in my hair--yep, I had long hair in those days!
I felt so guilty about her being so young and having no playmate that I would drive 20 minutes each way at lunch to see her: that meant I could only spend 20 minutes petting her, but I didn't mind! At the time I lived in a studio apartment; to entertain Aurora (she was quite active in those days), I would throw balls of paper from one end of the "shoebox" to the other. After we ran through one pile (about 20 of so paper balls), I'd switch positions.
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| We drove across country in a 1989 Dodge Colt that |
| looked very much like this 1983 model. |
I discovered pretty quickly that, like her owner, Aurora gets car-sick in the backseat. Every single day started out the same: I started driving--Aurora threw up--I cleaned out the cage--Aurora was fine the rest of the way.
The car was also not air-conditioned--which on the highways made no difference. In the cities and in states with lots of construction (yes, Utah, I mean you!), the car would get unbearably hot and Aurora would start hyperventilating. I would pour water on her head from a water bottle which sounds awful but actually helped.
During that trip, she stayed at a house with a ferret (which freaked her out), a house with another cat (which she didn't mind so much except she and the other cat got into a pissing and pooping match--who can fill up the other cat's litter box the most?!), multiple hotels (which she liked), a cozy bedroom in West Virginia (which she liked) and a basement in Ohio (which she didn't). She spent a few days in upstate New York before we both drove on to Maine, where she stayed on Peaks Island; there she met her brother Max.
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| Aurora and Bob |
From Peaks Island, Aurora moved to an apartment on Woodfords Corner, then an apartment in the West End, and finally (for her) an apartment off Forest Ave; this means that over her lifetime, Aurora adjusted to a total of five apartments (in Washington, I lived for six months in a much larger and much nicer apartment than the studio apartment before moving to Maine). She was happiest in the last: more roomy than some of the others, fewer intruding smells. Truthfully, by the time we moved into this apartment, Aurora had reached the utterly-unfazed-by-anything stage of life.
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| Feed Me! Courtesy: Jen Jones |
She also tolerated two brothers, Max and Bob. Max she mothered and played with. Bob she accepted and agreed to play with (she did perk up after Bob arrived). She is survived by Bob--and me.
In terms of idiosyncrasies, for most of her life, Aurora would eat anything, including curry! She had a VERY loud yowl. She was shyer with people than my male cats have been. She was a better hunter than my male cats with sharper eyes (spotting birds on telephone wires) and (up until recently) better hearing. After Max died and gave up the position of animal-who-gets-to-sit-on-Kate's-lap-while-she-watches-TV, Aurora took over that position, only relinquishing it in the last two weeks. (When Bob took it over, I realized that both animals were sending me a message.) |
Altogether, Aurora Woodbury had a remarkable life--for a human, let alone a cat--and bore it with remarkable sangfroid, even for a human!
* * *
2010
My cat, Max, died this morning at about 10:30 a.m. (July 26, 2010). I had him euthanized.
I'm writing this partly because writing helps me work things out but also because I want this post out there for anyone who ever feels as overwhelmed and anxious as I did about this decision. There's a lot of different opinions on the web about cat care; over the past week, I think I've read and synthesized most of it.
Although this was not the first time I'd seen a pet die, it was the first time that (1) the decision lay on my shoulders; (2) the cat's condition wasn't something I'd encountered before. Max had been failing for several months (rapidly over the course of the last week), but he wasn't actually paralyzed and occasionally looked alert.
What happened first?
First, I got Max in October 1996. I was living with my parents at the time, and I got him on Peaks Island. He was the friendliest of a group of kittens I went to look at. My older cat, Aurora, demonstrated some maternal instincts when he first showed up after which she promptly decided he was nuts. They more or less got along over the past 14 years.
Max always had to be where people were, investigating them and their stuff. He also wanted affection on a pretty constant basis: my high-maintenance cat. He was the kind of cat who would beg you for food, eat a couple of bites, and then rush back into the room to climb all over you. There were times when I thought he was going to climb inside my skin, he wanted affection so bad.
The first sign of trouble was this May when Max had labored breathing. The emergency animal clinic put him on prednisone which seemed to help; however, about the middle of June, he stopped eating. I switched from dry to wet food and got him to eat a few times a day. He began to get very weak in his back legs. He was no longer grooming himself, so I did that; he would still visit the litter box.
This past week, he stopped eating entirely unless I forced him though he would drink. He also began to search out hiding places. This, of course, was a radical personality change from the Max I was used to.
This weekend, he began to wheeze while laying on his side. He seemed to be in a catatonic state rather than asleep.
He did not cry although picking him up in certain ways obviously hurt him. Animals do not always show when they are in pain (they certainly don't have signs, saying, "Excuse me, I'm in pain"), but I formed the conclusion that he was.
Late Saturday night, I questioned whether I should take him to the emergency clinic to be euthanized even though I had just had his records moved to a regular veterinarian and wanted to take him there. After doing some research on the web, I formed the conclusion that he might die at home (which might be best) and that if he didn't, waiting until Monday to be absolutely sure he wasn't going to improve was the best option.
This morning, Monday, his condition was the same except he was slightly perkier (the weather is cooler). I made the appointment and took him in.
From my perspective, Max was very unhappy. However, based on the stuff I had read on the Internet, he certainly didn't look like a desiccated, hair-matted, eyes-filmed-over, at-death's-door cat. A part of me thought, Maybe, it is just asthma. We'll be going home with medication in two ticks.
However, I kept reiterating to the staff that I didn't want him to be put through lots of complicated and anxiety-producing tests. I would be doing it for me—and I was perfectly capable of doing it for me: What's VISA for?—not for him.
The extremely experienced vet (The Cat Doctor in Portland, Maine) was wonderful. She was practical and sympathetic without being maudlin or feeding me any "this is what you should have done" or "this is what GOOD owners do" stuff. It was clear within a few minutes that to her, Max's quality of life was so diminished that keeping him alive would be more for me than for Max. We took him into a room where she did a cursory exam (to make me happy, I think), and she was able to state that his problems were likely lung and/or heart-related and not the types of problems that could be cured or even managed without causing the cat a great deal of distress.
That wasn't what I wanted, so I gave the go ahead for him to be euthanized.
The Internet made it sound like he would be hooked up to some crazy machine, but she actually did it right there, right then. She pulled out a needle, already prepared (over the phone, I had put forward the possibility that Max would need to be put down, and she actually had two needles with her), and inserted it. She told me that there might be a brief struggle as the animal felt himself falling to sleep. But actually, Max didn't struggle at all. He was gone in less than two minutes without a complaint.
By the way, The Cat Doctor has tissue boxes ALL OVER THE CLINIC.
My options were to take the body with me, have a private cremation, or have a group cremation.
The whole visit cost $100. I feel this is very reasonable although I realize other people may want cheaper options. Based on my Internet research, some shelters will euthanize for free. However, most vets charge around $50 for euthanasia and $50 for cremation (more, for personal cremation).
So what about my older cat, Aurora?
She's extremely healthy physically (she's two years older than Max, being 16). In terms of her mental? instinctual? state, I'm not sure. She ignored Max over the last two months. Animals can tell when other animals are dying; Aurora was actually, probably, the best indicator I had for how far gone he was, I just didn't see it.
She loves that I now serve wet food (mixed with dry).
Whether she will miss him or not, I have no idea. When she wanders around the house, it is hard to know if she is looking for Max or hoping I left some food out somewhere.
People say pets grieve, but I'm very wary of believing what people say about their pets: so often, it seems that the wish precedes the evidence. They want to see their own grief reflected in the remaining animal. The animal may actually be reacting more to the owner's emotional/instinct-based aura than to anything else.
In which case, Aurora is just going to have to suffer. Sorry. But I miss Max like crazy; I can't just switch it off.
How about another pet?
It is very tempting to go out TODAY and get a little kitten. But I'm opposed to that course of action for three reasons. The first is that I wouldn't be replacing Max; I would be trying to soothe my feelings. And the new kitten wouldn't BE Max. (This would be true even if I cloned Max; the new kitten would be itself; I've never understood why people think that two things are the same just because they share the same DNA. This isn't a nature or nurture thing. It's just a reality thing.)
Second, according to Cesar Millan, when an animal comes into a grieving household, it doesn't say, "Oh, I am so sorry for you all. How sad!"
It says, "These creatures are weak. Weak creatures are bad. I must control them!"
Or, rather, it doesn't think at all. It just does it.
I don't want a new kitten running my house. In any case, it deserves more equilibrium.
Finally, I have a more steady paycheck in the fall. New kittens cost!
Still, the new vet is all lined up!
Conclusion
To conclude, if you have an ill/dying/unhappy cat, and you are really worried about what direction to go . . . I can't really tell you what to do except you should trust your observations. One of the websites I read said, "My vet told me I would know when it was time." In retrospect, this is totally correct.
It is retrospect. However, when I told the vet, "I've been expecting him to be dead every morning over the last few days," she replied that when an owner feels this, it is likely time for the pet to go. I think this is close to what I read: the owner knows better than anyone what quality of life the animal is used to.
If you are worried that the vet will berate you for choosing euthanasia, the good ones won't. They will give you multiple options. If I had walked in there and said, "I want the full work-up! Save his life at all costs!!" they would have done it (as much as they could, at least). But it would have been the wrong decision, and the vet was very clear about where Max stood health-wise.
If you are worried that the process is ultra-expensive, it isn't although you can make it ultra-expensive! I feel that I gave Max dignity without sacrificing my checkbook to some ridiculous extravaganza that would make me feel . . . well, just as bad actually since it wouldn't bring him back. (If I were more solvent, I would have gone with the private cremation and sprinkled his ashes on Peaks Island; I don't think Mom's tulips would have minded. But I will never keep an urn of anyone's ashes in my house. I understand bones; bones are cool. Dirt is just dirt. And, in truth, I kind of like the idea of my cat being cremated with lots of other animals: it's a circle of life thing.)
And finally, if you are worried that it is painful for the animal, from what I witnessed, it wasn't at all. My vet did let me stay with Max which I'm not sure I would have been able to do if I'd taken him to the emergency clinic. He was calm when he got the injection, and I pet him until he passed. They also did all the administrative business in the room, so I didn't have to go bawl in the waiting area which made me very grateful.
Max was a really good cat, and he had a really good life. R.I.P.
