Dear Readers, last night at 9.30 p.m. I got the call from the vet that I’d been expecting and dreading. Regular readers might remember that our cat Willow was at the animal hospital with suspected Feline Infectious Peritonitis, and has been on a drug to try to combat the virus that causes it since about Wednesday. Yesterday morning, the vet told us that the cat had had seizures overnight, and was now unsteady on her feet and had displaced her feeding tube, so she would no longer be able to be fed. As she had had a good feed before this happened, we decided to keep giving her the FIP medication just in case she rallied. When the vet called last night, she explained that Willow could no longer swallow, and we took the decision to put her to sleep as soon as the vet was able to, to prevent any further suffering. Poor little cat. The vet was upset too, but we agreed that the time was right. The hard part is not being with her when the time came, but we didn’t want to put her through hours more suffering while we tried to find a way to get to the hospital in the middle of he night without a car and we weren’t sure that she would know us any more anyway. But we will have to find a way to say goodbye to her, otherwise it’s as if she’s just disappeared. I shall give it some thought.
Willow really was the perfect cat. She could have gone outside but apart from occasionally exploring the patio she was perfectly happy sitting in a sunbeam at home. She’d pursue the sun around the house in the morning and then retire to the loft, where she slept, perfectly disguised, on our mostly-black duvet cover. In the days when I used to work, I’d finish at about 4.30 p.m. and as soon as I was downstairs sitting on the sofa and ready to do some knitting, she’d jump up beside me and demand to be groomed. If I was eating fish and chips she’d wait until i’d finished and, when I put my plate down, she’d lick any remaining butter off of the roll, ignoring any fish.
But bedtime was her favourite. If I was dallying past about 9.30 p.m. she’d jump up and miaow at me until I went upstairs. Once in bed, she’d settle down happily on my lap, purring away. I’d read my Kindle, and occasionally drop it on her if I fell asleep, startling the pair of us. But as soon as I turned off the light she’d jump down and head off to one of her other sleeping spots – my office chair, for example (she was perfectly disguised on that as well, the seat being black, and I nearly sat on her more than once).
She wasn’t a saint: she took to peeing on the kitchen mat, she would occasionally do a protest crap in the office if we were away, and when we returned from a trip she’d spend the first few nights singing the song of her people every hour, just to let us know how badly we’d behaved. But she was the sweetest, most tolerant little cat, and the vets loved her – one of the nurses at our usual practice said that she wished every cat could be like Willow. She loved all our visitors (so long as they were sitting down, she did hate to be loomed over) and would do anything for a brush or a stroke. She was always her own cat, but she entwined her life with ours, and even now I expect to see her popping her head around the door to see if her space on the sofa is free.
Sllgatsby, a regular reader and a poetry lover like myself, sent me this poem a few days ago. I share it now because it encapsulates what Willow was like, small and delicate and frail as she was. Go well, little cat.
Plentitude
by Ann Iverson
Even near the very end
the frail cat of many years
came to sit with me
among the glitter of bulb and glow
tried to the very last to drink water
and love her small world
would not give up on her curious self.
And though she staggered — shriveled and weak
still she poked her nose through ribbon and wrap
and her peace and her sweetness were of such
that when I held my ear to her heart
I could hear the sea.
–from Mouth of Summer
Willow, 16 years young…
Oh I am so sorry to read this sad news….its awful when you lose a furry member of the family. You and the vets did everything that could be done to help her, but it sounds like she had a good life with you and you clearly have some lasting memories of your time together. Take care. Anne x
Thanks Anne x
The time had come. My heartfelt sympathy goes out to you both. The poem reminds me very much of our previous two cats – we don’t forget them.
Thanks Anne x
Oh gosh, I’m so sorry to hear of Willow’s passing. I have had many animals in my life and I must say that it never gets even the tiniest bit easier to say goodbye when that time comes, no matter how often we go through it. I find it even harder as I get older and know that I might not have many more animals, if any.
I am relieved though that it was obvious in Willow’s case when it was time, as it is often less clear when our animals have stopped having a good quality of life. She obviously had a lovely relationship with you and that’s what we all want for our sweet companions.
That poem never fails to move me. I am glad if it gave you some solace.
Thanks, Bonnie x
I am so sorry.She really was a perfect cat. So lovely to have had her in your life.
Christine
Thanks, Christine x
So sorry to read this . She looked and sounds as if she was the perfect companion. We lost our two very old boys ( brothers) last year as they’d got more and more unwell and had no quality of life . I think it’s some solace knowing that they went peacefully in the end and I hope you will feel that about Willow too.
Thank you x
I am so sorry for you both. Our animals are a quiet but so important presence in our lives and in return you obviously gave her a life she loved. Take care.
Thank you x
So sorry to read of your loss of Willow, being aware the end is coming never seems to make it any easier to bear. Any loss brings grief, be it a person, a treasured pet, a tree or a familiar view. Grieve well and in your own way, there are no rules.
Ann x
Thank you, Ann x
So sorry to hear about Willow. She sounds like a lovely cat. We had several cats over the years, all characters and all missed, but not forgotten.
Thank you Emily x
So sorry to hear this. Especially hard not to be with her. But you did the most loving thing you could do for her. And as we say, may her memory be for a blessing.
Thank you x
She sounds like my own little cat, a constant satellite in our lives. How we love them, how they burrow into our lives. When our beloved Charlie died, we waited a while and then took his ashes quietly into our churchyard one sunny Sunday and scattered him lavishly on a raised border behind the bench he liked to sit on and review the world. Every time I pass, I have a nod to the lavender that grows there still, knowing he is part of it. May your heart be eased.
Thank you, Anne x
I am so sorry for you, it never gets easier but in time one comes to remember the lovely life they had and how much joy they gave in return. A quiet little animal, long remembered.
Thank you x
The post and the poem brought tears. Cats are thieves, they steal our hearts. We lost our twenty one year old in November and I still think I can see her out of the corner of my eye. You did the very best for Willow and that includes letting her go.
Thank you x
The last act of love, letting her go.
Thank you. So true xxx
I’m so very sorry for your loss.
Thanks Andrea x
I am so very sorry for the loss of your beautiful girl. It’s one of the hardest things to let them go, but also one of the most selfless. Consider yourself hugged.
Thank you for the hug ! xx
I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your lovely cat. I always liked reading about Willow – I could see from your photos that she was a gentle soul. I hope it will bring you some comfort to think of the happy life she had, basking in sunbeams and enjoying your company.
Thanks Liz x
Oh dear how sad for you, indeed it is a great loss, you gave her the best of care. So very sorry you had to say goodbye to Willow. Cats are so precious as companions. Sending thoughts and love. My flowers for Fran you sent us seeds are flowering for you. XxX
Thanks, Japh! Send me a photo when you get a second?
Dear little Willow. You wrote so lovingly about her. It brightened my day each time. Thank you. I am so sorry that cruel disease took her from you and hope your memories of her happy life will keep comforting you. The poetry you find is so moving . Thank you for that too.
Thank you x
Sorry to read this and for the trouble. 16 is a good age from my experience of life with cats. She sounded like an absolute beauty of a cat. It’s so hard saying goodbye and the days that follow are very difficult. Hope you’re feeling better now.
Thank you so much Daniel! She was a really lovely girl, and we miss her so much, but things are getting a bit easier. I hope you’re doing ok too…