Losing a Furry Friend

I don't mention the pets on here much. After all, we have two cats and cats aren't known for their vast interactions with children. Cats know children pull tails and chase and throw toys at them in an attempt to play catch. Our cats learned this with Xander and never forgot.

Let's do a quick background on our beloved pets. On the right, sporting a rare orange (for a female) is Ainsley. I adopted her while living in Toledo, dating Chris and living in an apartment by myself. She loves to cuddle up with strangers in an attempt to escape. Seriously, I can't tutor students without having to drag Ainsley off of their laps. On the left is Min. Chris adopted her when we moved to Columbus and he finished his Master's thesis. Unfortunately, I quit my job around the same time and stayed home to bond with Min. Then we bought a house and had children. She learned (ack, past tense! spoiler! tears!) to chill out all day in a bedroom and the moment I was alone, she would stalk me for attention. When the kids were tucked into bed, she'd be in the hallway meowing for food. 

They were often like sisters, fighting and then sleeping next to each other.

That makes Ainsley...12? She's getting up there in age and is showing it with some white on her chin that is spreading. But she is spry and agile and still begs for food even if we won't share. Her food intolerance popped up about the same time her thyroid gave her trouble and we had to start her on medication last year. Just a pill in a treat twice a day, nothing difficult. She loves to sleep on my feet in the winter which I love. Ainsley even tolerates the kids now that Xander doesn't pull tails and the girls have learned to be gentle.

Ainsley won Hannah over from the beginning.

Around January of this year, I noticed that Min was looking a little off. Her fur was always soft and she had a long, fluffy tail. Her fur was not so soft and her tail was looking a little bedraggled. Next I noticed when she was lying down and I petted her, her belly felt swollen. And a lot more vomit was mysteriously appearing. And food wasn't disappearing as quickly.

As her sides slowly began to balloon out, we realized she was definitely sick. We took her to the vet who confirmed she had a tumor or tumors. We debated having surgery but it was expensive and the vet wasn't even sure the tumors were operable. So we brought her home and made her comfortable.

Her sides continued to slowly grow while the rest of her thinned out. You could feel her vertebrae and hip bones when you petted her. Her sides rubbed the sides of the cat door when she went to the basement. One weekend in March, Min spent the entire time sleeping on the floor of the front room. We knew it was time to say good bye.

I was a mess for the first few days but I think Ainsley took it harder. For the next couple months, every time Chris and I would go to bed, Ainsley would wander around meowing for a few minutes. Looking for her lost sister.

Chris and I debated what and how to tell the kids about losing Min. She went to a farm? She's staying with the vet? I did tell them Min was too sick to come home. After some suggestions that we pray for her, I broke the news that she was dead. They were sad but not in tears. In fact, they would randomly bring up that Min was dead to strangers at the store. So I'd go so far as to say they were not traumatized.

(This was going to be published back in April but it was hard for me to write. Then May and June became super duper triple busy. I'm finally feeling like I am doing more than surviving so hopefully I can update. Or at least throw some pictures.)