After lobbying for a new pet, (in my 14 year old eyes) forever, mom finally said yes! We got to go to the pet section of a now defunct big box store pick out a kitten. I loved to eat kiwi fruit. One kitten out of them all curled up in my hands and just docilely laid there. He was a long-haired cat and in my hand he looked like a little kiwi fruit. I named him Kiwi! Kiwi had a good temperament meaning that he liked to just sit around and not cause trouble like most household cats. He was more of a movie-style cat prop used to sit around the house near his owners and look pretty.
Kiwi had a wild streak though. Don’t clean his litter box? He pees on the couch or in your laundry basket of clean clothes. He wants attention? He will bring your best lounging slippers right up by your face. Many a night I have caught him putting both my slippers on my pillow just to let you know that he wants to settle down and just sit on you.
He can sleep on your back, side, stomach or head. No matter how much you thrash about in the night he can roll around (like the girls on MXC when they cross the rolling logs) and never fall off your body. He survived the great green bean fire. Many years have passed since that day. Long story short…Mom left green beans on the stove (by accident) when we went to one of my brother’s baseball games. A few hours later she realized she left the beans on the stove so we rushed home in my Dad’s “LeCar” to find the house inundated with smoke. I thought of Kiwi and presumed him dead. This overly smart cat had gone to the lowest level of the house (smoke rises!) and hid in a smoke free corner near an edge wall in the basement.
Kiwi has been there to not judge me but to sit in silence while I tell him my troubles since my first high school boyfriend. He must now be tired of hearing my sordid stories. He is a constant in my life and has been so since I was 14 years old. I’m going to miss the little guy like I miss summers off from school.
Yesterday he ruled the roost and today he can’t even use the litter box without me holding him up so he won’t roll over into oblivion. I believe he had a stroke (and the vet has now confirmed this). His habits have not changed too much. He even welcomes water, will taste some food and even use the litter box when I hold him up. He remembers the rituals…oh yes…but he cannot make his body do what the mind tells it. Tomorrow will tell. If there must be a death, wouldn’t you like it to go like this? Someone appears to be dying. You spend one final night together, expecting death. Morning comes and someone is still alive. Different, but alive. That someone hopefully gets the best medical opinion and survives…stay tuned for what “hopefully” could happen?
My best silent friend is still hanging on. He is not right. He is learning to compensate for his weaknesses and walk/lumber/limp a bit better. He has had baby aspirin (for blood clots), potassium gel for dehydration and yet he ate and drank today. He is 18 years old. I refuse to deny his impending death. As long as a professional has assured me that there is no pain present, and I have the time to try to rehabilitate him, we will forage on. Even thought we cannot overcome some injuries, we can adapt. This is a lesson that everyone thinks they have learned? You haven’t learned anything yet.
9/25/08 RIP KIWI
You were loved by us and you loved us unconditionally. We had time to say goodbye and that is all we could have asked for.