Friday, April 05, 2013
Mostly, though, her story pierced me. The shelter had named her Frisbee because the person who brought her in had witnessed her tossed from the window of a moving truck. Awfulness and awesomeness all at once.
We brought her home. She hated us. She'd slice our legs when we walked by, bite if we pet her the wrong way, and walk around hissing and growling just out of orneryness. We called her Demon Cat. But slowly she mellowed. She started hanging out with us. Licking my husband's face, and curling up on my lap while I read (or wrote). She sat in the window and acted as town crier, announcing when each of our neighbors got home and then, with a very different cry, when one of us did.
The shelter had listed her as 2 years old in 2006. That would make her 9 now, but a couple of years ago, when she was diagnosed hyperthyroid, we knew that couldn't be right. I guess "2 years old" is code for "we have no freaking idea." She's at least 13, possibly much older.
A little while ago, she went blind suddenly. High blood pressure (not really measurable without invasive testing, bad at her age) or a stroke were the likely causes. Her vision came and went since then, but she gained a little weight. Then she lost it. And continued losing it, and went more fully blind. About a week ago she stopped eating and developed an upper respiratory infection. In two days she went skeletal, and spent all her time creeping around in a hunched posture. She wouldn't lie down, was clearly uncomfortable being held, and had increasing trouble breathing.
We weighed all the factors, and came to the conclusion that she probably wasn't going to get any better, even if we spend a lot of money trying. So as of half an hour ago, she's no longer suffering.
Goodbye, Frisbee. We love you.
at 5:20 PM