Closing the chapter

I've just returned from picking up Twinkie's remains.

I'm sad to say I haven't been doing all that great with this whole thing. I really appreciate my friends that have been so good to me. I know a few of you who view pets differently from me and are probably somewhat disapproving of my reaction, and your patience with me is a kindness I really appreciate.

We're not entirely sure what all happened to poor Twinkie. What we do know is that it was a heart condition that brought him down. It may have been a condition brought about by his diabetes, or it may have been a pre-existing condition that was mild enough to escape detection for years, and which was aggravated by his diabetes until it took his life. The heart condition caused his lungs to fill with fluid, and he was in pretty bad shape. We dropped him off at the vet on Thursday for them to observe him overnight and try to stabilize his condition.

On Friday morning the vet called us to tell us that Twinkie's condition had worsened to the point that he nearly died when they shifted him to take blood for some tests. The only way they had to save his life was to transfer him to a specialist animal hospital, and even that gave us long odds. We went to visit with him immediately, and the poor guy was clearly suffering badly. He wasn't himself at all, and was audibly drowning within his own body.

So we said our good-byes and did the compassionate thing.

I know we did the right thing for him. It's never easy, but it's been especially hard this time. Every so often, a pet comes around that's just special. Twinkie definitely was.

My wife always joked that he was a dog trapped in a cat's body. That certainly seemed to be the case. He was the friendliest, most un-catlike cat I've ever met. He liked people so much that the vet had to hold him over running water to make him stop purring when checking his heart and lungs.

He was my cat. He was as attached to me as I was to him. We had our routines, especially first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Every morning, he waited between my side of the bed and my chest of drawers for me to wake up. I'd pet him for a while and then go shower. He waited outside the shower, and when I got out, licked my right calf every morning.

He was weird.

Every night he went upstairs to bed with my son. When I'd go up to check on the kids, I'd tease my son about how Twinkie was my damn cat and he'd better leave him alone. Kidzookie ate that up. When I finally came up to turn in myself, Twink would come up and lie on my chest and I'd pet him until I fell asleep. He liked being pet so much that he would drool, and I mean drool. Slobber flowed freely from his mouth. Every night I'd scratch his ears to make him shake his head and he'd spray wifezilla with spit.

Good times.

Every time I sat down at my desk to work on my computer, he jumped in my lap. I don't think there's been 15 total minutes in the past eight years that I've sat at that desk without a cat. I'm really going to miss that.

You always feel like you didn't appreciate someone enough once they're gone. I guess it's human instinct. It rose up and kicked me in the stomach with Twink, but in this case, I think it really isn't true. I loved that cat to pieces and said so often while he was still with us. I played with him and pet him every day, and had commented to my wife just a few days prior to his sudden passing how special a pet he was, and how lucky I was to have him. Obviously, I wish I'd had more time with him, but the time we had was well spent. He was well-fed, well-cared for, well-loved, and, well, happy.

Not really sure how to end this. My normal bile and sarcasm are too disrespectful for this post. I guess I'll let it go with a simple God speed, Twink. I miss you.