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  -Pico

We euthanized Ginny on January 22, 2004.  She was 16+ years old and suffered with a very large tumor in her abdomen. For the last five to six months of her life, her appetite and strength failed her. Deciding to end her suffering was very hard. She trusted us with her life and I hope we didn't misuse that trust.

I'm in my 60's and have had cats for most of my life. I've loved some, disliked others but mourned all.  Ginny was a great companion. We (my wife Sharon and I) miss her greatly. We had a very good relationship with her that was built on mutual trust and respect. Not everyone understands how such a relationship is possible with a cat.  Some people can not conceive of a cat in anything but "property" terms.  How sad for them.

What was so great about Ginny? She was company,  comfort, and could communicate reasonably well. We would sit near each other when I read or watched TV and we took naps together. At times, she would come into my home office, brush against my leg in greeting and then lay down nearby keeping my company.  She usually participated in Havdalah. Never did she act as if she had entitlements. Always, she waited for permission to join us on a bed for a nap or to eat food not in a dish at her "eating place".  She wouldn't beg for food (unless a Turkey was cooking!).  Elsewhere on this website, there are some pages in memory of Birdie, a budgie. Ginny would watch Birdie from the doorway of our bedroom but wouldn't enter (with the exception of one occasion we know about) until the Birdie was asleep in his cage. Ironically, we lost both Birdie and Ginny to massive tumors cutting off their respective GI tracks. Continuing on, Ginny greeted us at the front door when we would return to the house; would lick my hand in greeting when she joined me for a nap on my bed, and always used the litter box (or tried to) even on the last day of her life despite how physical taxing that was. She never damaged the furniture although she had a full set of nails, never stole food; and never tried to "get even", as some cats do.

About 9 months before her death, Ginny lost the ability to put weight on one of her rear feet. After days of emergency room visits, vet visits, diagnostics, and false starts, a very savvy vet determined that Ginny had a spinal column infection. A blast of antibiotics was ultimately effective. We had a heck of a time pilling Ginny and learned that we could consistently sneak some medications in with human baby food and creamed herring sauce. With other medications, it was hopeless. I still have puncture wounds in my fingers.  

Chivas, briefly described under other cat relatives, moved back to our house after a couple of years absence, 5 months before Ginny's death. Ginny was used to being the sole cat of the house and did not welcome cat company.  Initially, she was aggressive defending her turf against a cat twice her weight and would chase Chivas across the house. Near the end, she just didn't care.  Chivas moved frequently from domicile to domicile during her life and usually shared her home du year with different cats.  She probably approached Ginny because she wanted a cat companion, not to establish new turf. 

During the last 5 month period, Ginny's appetite slowly deteriorated and it took increasing effort to tempt her to eat.  For most of that period, she could be tempted to eat fast food chicken breasts (some brands only); turkey breast; always canned tuna (in spring water); chicken, beef, and turkey baby food, without vegetables. She would also eat, at times, some of the wet fancy cat foods such as Sheba and Fancy Feast. Ginny loved fat free milk in her later years but as she became older, she would stop eating after drinking the milk. The vet suspected colitis. Switching to lactose-free 2% milk helped greatly. Lactose free milk, we learned is better for cats than regular milk.

Sharon ran a Hospice for Ginny the last month of her life. Every couple of hours or less she would try and tempt Ginny with food. Ginny seemed to eat mouthfuls to please Sharon and would only eat thimblefuls at a time. As time went on, the variety of food she would eat dwindled until the last 2 days of so she would only drink fat free milk (not lactose-free). In the few days earlier, she could only be tempted with herring cream sauce, whipped cream, and very watery canned chicken breast or tuna.  Oddly enough, her only and last solid food during that period was packaged kosher corn beef, my daughter's idea. She ate a bunch. At the end, she seemed to be fur, bones, and tumor. She was still mentally alert although she seemed to "zone out" at times and had trouble keeping her head raised. Maybe she was reflecting on her past. If she was in pain, it wasn't obvious but her abdomen was tender. 

Her litter box was on a lower floor of our house and no matter how weak she got, she dragged herself down the stairs several times a day. Eventually, she got to the point where she was too weak to climb back up the stairs, was unable to get on our bed, where she used to sleep, and would be unable to untangle her nails from the rug on the living room floor or stairs leading to the litter box. At times like these, she would patiently wait for a ride up or for us to untangle her nails. She had complete faith in us.

That faith is what makes the death of a pet so hard to deal with. Pets seem to have great expectations of their owners and it is helpless feeling not being able to live up to such expectations.

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