Tag Archives: pets

Chalmette in a bag

This is Chalmette, my mom’s cat. He was born on my mom’s patio to a feral cat. For years, my mom had been trapping feral cats, getting them spayed or neutered with vets who help with Trap, Neuter, Return programs, and then returning them to the area around her townhouse. Her hard work with TNR worked well to lower the population, but Chalmette’s mother got pregnant before my mom could catch her. My mom started touching Chalmette and his sibling a few days after they were born, so they would get used to a human handling them. Once they were weaned, she took them inside. She found someone else to adopt Chalmette’s sibling, but Mom kept Chalmette. She hadn’t had a cat in a while. Chalmette became a wonderful pet for my mom. He was mischievous and sweet. He had an obsession with flowers. My mom couldn’t have any flowers in the house because Chalmette would eventually get to them, then take a flower, and parade around the house with it in his mouth. He gave my mom years of love, companionship, and sometimes entertainment. Today she had to put him to sleep. He was diagnosed with cancer less than two weeks ago, and the vet did not know how much time he had. While he seemed to be in good shape and was alert, he was bleeding in his mouth. My mom wanted to make sure he was never in pain. Rest in peace Chalmette. Thank you for the love and companionship you gave my mom. Thank you for finding me so fascinating and allowing me to invade your house whenever I came to visit my mom.

Chalmette on the refrigerator

It all started with Bestoff. I was in high school, and this cat started showing up at our door. My sister is allergic to cats and dogs, so we had never had pets except for a few hamsters at times. Bestoff decided we were good people. People don’t adopt cats. Cats adopt people. Mom started giving Bestoff a little food, and I named him. [There used to be a drug store called K&B. It started in New Orleans where my mom was from. K&B stood for Katz and Besthoff. We had a cat, so I named it Bestoff, only learning later I spelled it wrong.] Then Mom decided Bestoff could sleep in the laundry room when it was cold. Later Bestoff decided he would just live in the house thank you very much. Years later, when I went to graduate school for my Master’s, I took him with me. He disappeared one day over the patio fence, as he often did, but he never came back. Several weeks later I decided I needed another cat. I adopted two littermate kittens who looked a lot like Bestoff. I adopted both because I couldn’t bear the though of separating them, and I was worried one would be put to sleep. Years later, I took Ariel (the female of the littermates) to the vet for some routine test or something. There was the kitten Beatrice sitting in a cage looking for a home. She had wandered to my vet’s house. My vet said she would have kept her, but she didn’t get along with her own cats. So my vet set her up in her office to find her a home. While I was waiting for my vet to see me, I pulled Beatrice out of the cage, put her in my lap and petted her, and she purred up a storm. My vet came out, saw me with Beatrice, and said “I’ll just take Ariel back. You two are bonding.” Next thing I knew I had a third cat.

Years later, Ariel would die. I would adopt a dog. He would later die after five wonderful years. Then I adopted Ferdinand and then Thisbe, both basset hounds. Thisbe died three years ago after escaping from my fenced in yard and getting him by a car. I had to have Puck (the male of those littermate cats) put to sleep last year after 17 wonderful years. Today it was Beatrice. I wasn’t expecting it. She had been having a recurring cold due to feline herpes virus (it’s rather different from the human version). Not a big thing, but annoying. November during her last physical, she had lost a little bit of weight, and one of her blood test values showed signs of early kidney disease. We were going to monitor her, but the vet and I weren’t real worried about it. She had had a cold on and off for a couple of weeks now, but last night she wouldn’t eat, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. I thought the cold had led to a more severe respiratory infection, so I brought her to the vet this morning. She was getting worse, but it wasn’t an infection. It was severe and sudden heart failure. We didn’t know how long she had, and even in the best case scenario with aggressive treatment, she still probably didn’t have that long. Her body temperature was 90°F when it should be more like 100°F. She responded to having the fluid around her lungs drained, but she was clearly suffering and was clearly dying. I did the only thing I could. I ended her suffering and had her put to sleep. She went peacefully.

For all the dogs and cats I have had, I have been there for four of them when I had them put to sleep. It doesn’t get easier. I guess it is not supposed to be. I know I made the correct decision in each case, but it still hurts to lose another. Now it is just Ferdinand the basset hound and I. My house seems more empty. I’ll probably get another cat at some point. Please God, keep Ferdinand safe and healthy. I can’t lose another right now.

Rest in peace, Beatrice.

Beatrice

Beatrice with a rock pillow. The rock is a hunk of quartz with mica if you want details.

I have had cats for a couple of decades now. I don’t fully understand them and never will. One reason why is they sometimes lay on the strangest things. I grasp that they like to be on high things because the better to survey their domain or something. Sometimes that can simply mean laying on top of a book, which puts them all of one inch higher, but whatever. Also, they like to lay in sunbeams, but who doesn’t, especially when it is chilly. However, sometimes they lay on things that just seem plain uncomfortable. This morning I found Beatrice laying in a sunbeam, which I get, but using a rock as a pillow, which I really don’t get.

Beatrice with a rock pillow. The rock is a hunk of fluorite if you want details.

Last year, my now-late cat Puck decided to lay on top of a dustpan, which I seriously don’t understand. Then again, Puck thought basset hounds made excellent pillows when they stopped moving, although I actually agree with this opinion.

Puck laying on top of a dustpan.