The death of a queenly cat

Seems like I barely get back from one event when off I go to another. I returned from San Francisco and a few days later  Bill and I headed off for a Monastic Institute held at Saint John's Abbey. Called "One Heart, One Mind, One Community." I will write about what happened there, but not now. Now I need to tell you about the pets that greeted us when we got home.

Ellie (our once fat old cat) has stopped eating. I mean really stopped. We've been home for three days and she hasn't eaten a thing. She drinks a little water, and still wants to go outside (though there are no more of those headless mice laid in front of our door to testify to her hunting and dining prowess), sleeps endlessly when inside and though she continues to purr when petted, she walks with a slight wobble.

Shelby (our lovely old Springer/Collie) yelps when we touch certain parts of her body. She yelps when she tries to open her mouth. An encounter with a hive of angry bees? But when? On our first night home we were able to indulge in lots of "hugging the dog" activities without eliciting a yelp. Today similar activities bring cries of distress. When we are home, Shelby never leaves our side. We would know if she'd been stung. We'd probably have been stung too.

We adopted both pets from Animal Alliance -- older animals that no one else wanted. They are both now 10 years old and have been such wonderful companions. Shelby, despite her yelping, still tries to act joyous -- trotting along at a happy pace and darting after anything that moves. Ellie doesn't even try to act playful. She lies in a tucked position and doesn't move.

The following day . . .

We are in mourning. Yesterday afternoon Bill took both pets to the veterinarian. When he returned home he was weeping.  There was a reason Ellie had not been eating – a  massive tumor that made breathing and eating almost impossible. She had dropped 1/4 of her body weight. We were told we had two choices. We could bring her home to die, but she would suffer much; or we could ease her passage. Bill stayed with her as the vet induced sleep. 

 We laid her in a small grave next to her predecessor, the indomitable Felix. It is so hard to adopt and fall in love with older pets and at times like this, when we wonder why we do this, we remember the love and freedom and security we shared with them. It helps. A bit.Ellie had been on a diet ever since we brought her home 6 years ago as a "full-figured" loveable but abandoned cat. When she started losing weight in May, we thought warmer weather and more exercise had produced a spike in her metabolism. She loved the out-of-doors. She'd wait on the bench next to the front door for us to open it, and would fly over the dog's head in her delight at going for walks with us. When her appetite began to diminish we thought it was due to her superior "mousing" skills. 

We are still awaiting the news on Shelby. The doctor believes she is suffering from an auto-immune disease that causes her body to develop swellings and her jaws to stiffen. The pain and anti-inflammatory meds seem to have helped. She was not so restless last night, and when I gently stroked her head and belly she did not yelp. I want to take her in my arms and hug her as I used to. I am glad I am not off on my book tour for The Scent of God. I press my face gently against hers and rub foreheads; I gaze  into her eyes, as I looked into Ellie's yesterday, and pray that she will be well. When I cradled Ellie yesterday, I did not realize it would be for the last time. I do not want to have to say goodbye, again.

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