People who have never had pets don’t understand. Pets are your children who never really grow up. They never stop loving you or needing you. They don’t move away to live their own lives. They don’t judge. You never become “lame” or old in their eyes.
Patches would wait in the window every day for me to come home. She would meet me at the door and often race me to the bedroom and jump up on the bed wanting me to toss crinkle balls to her that she would swat back to me out of mid air. I kept thinking I need take a video of her playing swat the crinkle ball, there would always be time. Our time ran out. I really wish I had made that video. Oh course she didn’t care, playing with me was all that mattered to her. She would play for just a few minutes then flop down on bed all tuckered out.
Patches lived with us for almost a decade. She had her faults, but was always very sweet and gentle. She had a good life with us and a calm painless end. Logic suggests that I should be happy that she is no longer suffering and happy for the time she was with us. And I am. Yet here I am at work sitting in front of the computer monitor with tears streaming down my face.
Maybe it’s because they are so dependent on us. We love our pets and want them to have good lives. But eventually there is nothing we can do for them except ease their suffering.
Patches is the third pet I have outlived. It doesn’t ever get easier.
The Mrs sent me this image a week ago.
Got this bed to go in the bedroom for Sir Edmund Hillary, but he never used it there. So we put it in the kitchen up against the window that gets the late afternoon sun. He eventually discovered it and claimed it as his.
He’s twitching so he must be dreaming.
I think that he and Pickles miss Patches. The Mrs says she heard one of them meowing as if calling for her.
Patches empty bed …
Patches took her last trip to the vet today. She had stopped eating or drinking for the past few days. She went to the vet Monday of this week and I thought that might be her last visit, she had lost a lot of weight over the past year and was suffering from reduced kidney function and irritable bowl syndrome. I picked up some meds for her on Wednesday, but by then she had stopped eating and drinking. She was telling me it was time to go even if I didn’t want to hear it. I will miss her.
Click link below for articles about Patches
I haven’t been posting much lately. Too much “life” going on … in a good way.
I have been working in my profession since April after a difficult two years. So, yeah things are going OK. Turned the big 65 last Sunday. The “pride” is still going strong.
Bottom left clockwise: Sir Edmund Hillary, Pickles, and the grant old lady … Patches. Not a very photogenic picture, but you get the point.
Cleaning out, throwing out and/or shredding decades of old bills, cancelled checks, warranties and manuals for stuff I no longer own. Got to the bottom of the lower shelf of my lateral file cabinet. To Pickles it’s just another box.
Sir Edmund Hillary, or just Hillary for short, is one of my cats. He and his brother Pickles were litter mates that we rescued.
They are both long haired cats that suffer from extreme matting. Fortunately they are both tolerant and long suffering, allowing me to both trim their nails and shave their mats. I used to take them to the vet for this, but the vet wanted $300 apiece to anesthetize them and shave them. Since I have been underemployed since 2016, the task has fallen to me.
Earlier this week I couldn’t stand it any longer and decided that Hillary had to be trimmed. His mats had to be making him miserable.
Mission accomplished – I had him mostly trimmed – with the worst of the mats removed. Then yesterday I noticed it. I must have “zigged” when I should have “zagged” while trimming his neck.
I trimmed off one side of his whiskers. Oh the humanity! Or is that catity?
Hillary is VERY forgiving … and lying in my lap as I type this.