Michelle, I'm so sorry - thank you for writing about her, I know how
deeply you care and how much it hurts. Gloria
At 10:14 AM 2/22/2006, you wrote:
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From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Full-name: Lernermichelle
Message-ID: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Date: Wed, 22 Feb 2006 11:13:30 EST
Subject: Ginger is gone
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She never regained consciousness after the MRI. She started
breathing some on her own, but not enough to get sufficient oxygen
without the machine. After several hours all the vets said there was
no way she was going to regain consciousness, and also that the mass
in her brain was so big, after the neurologist actually looked at
the pictures rather than just the report, that she said even if it
was an infection rather than a tumor there was nothing she could do.
She said that it was so large that the slight increase in brain
pressure from the anesthesia made her brain herniate and part of it
go out through the back of her skull. Gray and I stayed with her
for an hour or so while she was on the breathing machine, and talked
to her and told her how much we loved her, and reminded her of what
a good life she had had and how happy she had been, and told her we
did not want her to suffer, and asked her forgiveness, and then
euthanized her. We took her home wrapped in a blanket and I slept
next to her last night and then this morning we buried her next to
the stream and waterfall in our back yard, in the woods, where she
used to sit for hours watching the waterfall. We are in total
shock. I have been fussing for months over Lucy, with her IBD and
bladder stones, and Patches, with her teeth and her UTI's, and have
paid less attention to Ginger because she seemed to be doing so
well. Just Saturday morning we were laughing at her because she was
racing around the house, chasing a pen, and then bothering Lucy to
play with her. Apparently she had a large brain tumor then and it
just had not affected an important part of the brain yet. When she
started acting sick Saturday night and I took her to the ER on
Sunday, and then to another ER on Monday and had her seen by an
internist, the vets all told me that she had probably just ingested
something and had mild gastroenteritis and it would work itself out.
But she had a brain tumor the whole time.
I do not know how old she was. If the shelter was right, then she
was almost 7. I had her almost 4 years, and they said they thought
she was about 3 when I adopted her. I think she had been there a
year or two and had come in as an adult, with a litter of kittens
who subsequently died from FeLV. I think it was her personality
that kept her going for so long. She was always happy, had no
malice toward anyone, and acted like a kitten her whole life. I have
never in my life seen a cat who played so much. She literally was
fascinated by everything, and saw everything as a toy. She loved
watching the toilets flush, and the printer print, played with our
shoelaces when we put our shoes on, chased pens and peanuts and a
little plastic Easter egg around the house. Even at the first ER on
Sunday morning, when she was feeling too sick to eat, I got her to
play in the examination room while we waited for her test results,
with a piece of string tied to a q-tip. Last April, when her teeth
got so bad she could not eat and needed 10 removed surgically, and
right afterwards when she had a bad URI that lasted for weeks and I
had to syringe feed her, she was still playing the whole time. She
was joyful, and the life of our house. The house feels so empty without her.
She was also Simon's best friend. Until he died last February, the
two of them played all day long. She used to go up to him and put
her arm over his neck, like putting him in a head lock, and then the
two of them would tumble and chase each other, run up the cat tree
at the same time while batting at each other, chase each other up
the tree in their yard. She used to climb that tree, and one here in
our new house as well. She loved watching the waterfall in the
woods behind our house, and staring at the frogs in the little pond
in the backyard during the summer. She never hunted, but she did
catch one of the frogs one time and carried him around until we saw
her and got her to release him unhurt. She truly bore no malice
toward anyone, had very little fear, and was always ready for an
adventure. When she was recuperating last spring from her dental
surgery and URI and I brought her down to my mom's so I could tend
to my horse Pepsi as she was dying, my mother was amazed that she
was not at all scared of being in a new house and just walked around
the room exploring. She stayed at my mom's for a month, while we
packed our house and moved down here. She was alone a lot in the
room there, and took to watching tv with fascination. She would meow
at my mom to turn the tv on. My mom would work on the computer in
that room, and she would bat at the cursor as it moved across the
screen. My mom used to flush the toilet in the attached bathroom
just to entertain her. She would get these obsessions with a
particular food and refuse to eat anything else but that one food
for months, and then suddenly switch to a different food. I would
have to buy her cases of whatever her current obsession was.
Sometimes I would try to hold out and try feeding her something
else, because I had run out of her food or just because I thought
she should not eat the same thing all the time, but she would hold
out for a whole day until I gave in and went and got her what she
wanted, or threw away whatever it was I was trying to get her to eat
and opened up a can of what she wanted. She loved baby food, and
got it every morning with some supplements. Except once Lucy and
Patched could not eat baby food, starting a few months ago, I got
lax and sometimes went a day or two without giving it to her, which
of course I now think about sadly and wish I had not done.
She lived longer than I should have expected. But when I read that
Rudy lived to 13, I of course hoped she would too, as she seemed to
be doing so well. She probably had a brain tumor while I was hoping
for her to live another 6 years. It is why I am superstitious. I
felt anxious as soon as I felt myself hoping for them to live to 13,
like something bad was going to happen to one of them soon. And it did.
I loved her, and still do, and miss her terribly.
Michelle
