3205.
We lost a friend of longstanding yesterday.
This photo was taken in 2004. The gray cat, "Keeeton", by name, passed away not too long after that. He is still missed.
That suave, debonair, handsome tuxie next to him we called "Bet-dog". Most of the time, we just called him "Dog". He was named after the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and was usually spelt without the 'h' so that people wouldn't call him "Beth". The '-dog' append kind of accidentally happened … he was doglike in loyalty, anyway. Affable. Damnably handsome, 'just another pretty face', we teased him.
He didn't notice our mockery. He knew he was badass.
Keeeton adopted him as BFF after he grew past kitten stage, and passed me on to Bet (Keeeton was my cat-BFF) when he passed on. And over 10 years, since, he grew to be quite the character. As he ascended into age, the Venerable Bet slowed down ever so imperceptibly. Two years ago, we found he was getting very scrawny indeed; the doctor said he was hyperthyroidal. We gave him Methimazole, 1/2 a small tablet 2x daily, and he put on a great deal of that weight. But over the past two years, he grew increasingly blind due to cataracts and rather confused.
Yesterday, after becoming ever more quiescent and weak, and losing all interest in food and even water, we all made the hard decision to do the compassionate thing. Born Portland, Oregon, Yom Kippur 1997, died, Portland, Oregon, July 2015 … aged 18 years, 9 months, and 5 days.
Make your furball an inside furball, and they'll always be happy, and be happy with you for longer … but, ah, life, I digress.
And as the vet … a Dr. Brian Behrends, Montavilla Animal Clinic, a soft and gentle a prince of a man as ever was born to care for an animal, and someone I'll not hear a sour word said about, carried the now-at-peace cat away and out of the exam room for the last time, he did a thing I shall never forget … he gave the cat's body an affectionate cuddle, and kissed him most tenderly on the head.
One of the greatest goddamn cats ever.
This photo was taken in 2004. The gray cat, "Keeeton", by name, passed away not too long after that. He is still missed.
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| Photo taken in 2004. For context, check out thisblast from the past. |
That suave, debonair, handsome tuxie next to him we called "Bet-dog". Most of the time, we just called him "Dog". He was named after the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and was usually spelt without the 'h' so that people wouldn't call him "Beth". The '-dog' append kind of accidentally happened … he was doglike in loyalty, anyway. Affable. Damnably handsome, 'just another pretty face', we teased him.
He didn't notice our mockery. He knew he was badass.
Keeeton adopted him as BFF after he grew past kitten stage, and passed me on to Bet (Keeeton was my cat-BFF) when he passed on. And over 10 years, since, he grew to be quite the character. As he ascended into age, the Venerable Bet slowed down ever so imperceptibly. Two years ago, we found he was getting very scrawny indeed; the doctor said he was hyperthyroidal. We gave him Methimazole, 1/2 a small tablet 2x daily, and he put on a great deal of that weight. But over the past two years, he grew increasingly blind due to cataracts and rather confused.
Yesterday, after becoming ever more quiescent and weak, and losing all interest in food and even water, we all made the hard decision to do the compassionate thing. Born Portland, Oregon, Yom Kippur 1997, died, Portland, Oregon, July 2015 … aged 18 years, 9 months, and 5 days.
Make your furball an inside furball, and they'll always be happy, and be happy with you for longer … but, ah, life, I digress.
And as the vet … a Dr. Brian Behrends, Montavilla Animal Clinic, a soft and gentle a prince of a man as ever was born to care for an animal, and someone I'll not hear a sour word said about, carried the now-at-peace cat away and out of the exam room for the last time, he did a thing I shall never forget … he gave the cat's body an affectionate cuddle, and kissed him most tenderly on the head.
One of the greatest goddamn cats ever.
2 comments:
1996. Right about 2pm. His mother wanted me with her, not in another room gathering supplies, and dragged him partially down the hall by his umbilical cord to get me.
So yes, Bet was indeed dropped on his head as a youngster. Something tells me that contributed nothing to his apparent lack of need to rely on intelligence to get by. He had wisdom and good looks, who needed quick on the uptake? :)
- The Wife™
I'm so sorry, Sam. Losing pets is one of the hardest things there is.
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