A little over 3 months ago, we had to say goodbye to our Gracie. I don't think anything ever really prepares you for how devastating it is to lose a beloved pet... even a really annoying beloved pet...
I've always had a cat in my life, whether it was the cats I grew up with (cheers, Punky and Merry) or the cat at my parents' house when I was in college/traveling the world and couldn't have a cat of my own (miss you, Roxy). But Gracie was the first cat who was truly mine. Living with me in my own apartment. My responsibility. My vet bills. Moving with me cross-country (twice!) and then up to our final destination, my own condo in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She even gave the stamp of approval to my now-husband when he first came around.
She picked me, really. I had just moved back to my college town after a year living abroad. All my stuff was still in boxes in my new apartment, and I went for a grocery-store run. The pet-supply store next to the grocery store had the ASPCA animals out for adoption. Surely it wouldn't hurt anything to just look... I certainly wasn't ready to adopt... but there she was. A fiesty, tiny kitten with grey fur and a spark in her eye. She came home with me that day and proceeded to rule the roost from then on.
I got a second cat during residency, as Gracie was an extremely people-oriented, needy cat, and I felt guilty that I was NEVER home. So Max joined us.
Now Gracie was never what you'd call a lightweight... She started off as a normal-sized kitten, grew into a normal-sized cat, then proceeded to explode, due to her resemblance to a food vacuum. When she moved with me to PA, she weighed 16 pounds. So we went on a slimming regimen, and she stabilized around 13 pounds - pretty normal for a cat. She stayed there for years, until the summer we moved to the NW, seven years ago. Then, she started vomiting more frequently (she'd been a bit of a pukey cat for a few years before that) and dropping weight. Our wonderful vet (who was with us from then till the end) couldn't find anything wrong at first, so we messed with her food, and got her to stabilize around 9 pounds for a while... but her blood work eventually showed changes, and her intestines began to thicken. It became a struggle to keep her above 8 pounds... The most likely culprit seemed to be lymphoma. We weren't going to put her through an endoscopy and biopsy to confirm that, and we weren't going to go nuts with treatment, but we were able to give her seven years of pretty great quality of life. She was on a low-dose steroid for those last few years, which stopped the vomiting and, at first, helped to stabilize her weight. By the end, even the steroid couldn't keep weight on her.
We had her annual check-up when she was about 16-and-a-half. She was doing great, although her blood work continued to worsen. Then, all of a sudden, she wasn't great anymore. It's like someone flipped a switch and her disease went into overdrive. She gave us one last week, with my husband and I giving her fluids and cuddling with her every night before bed (she would never tolerate that before - but I guess she got too tired to be ornery anymore). Then it was time. We said goodnight to our Gracie with the help of our vet, and laid her to rest.
I'd been working from home for over two years at the time of her death. The advantage to this is that I got to spend so much time with her at the end of her life, particularly that last "weekus horribilis." The disadvantage is that now there was nothing to distract me from her absence. Nobody was curled up at my feet or on the love seat behind me. Nobody was alternately grooming, cuddling with, or hissing at their buddy. In fact, for weeks, our other cat was hesitant to set foot anywhere Gracie used to hang out... so it was a very lonely office for a while. Also, nobody was biting my computer cords anymore... Sure, we'll save money on iPhone chargers and coaxial cables, but it's a sad trade-off.
This cat really represented my adult life; she came along just as I was setting it up. She was with me through working life, med school, residency, and as I settled down into my forever-home. She was with me through my career change. She was my companion for many, many long single years, and when my husband came around, she promptly adopted him and proceeded to prefer his company to mine!
She had one of the loudest meows you'll ever hear, particularly when you might be trying to sleep at 3 in the morning (3am was her favorite time to begin her campaign for breakfast) or when you might be stumbling around the kitchen in the morning, trying to get her food and medications organized. She would batter down any closed door (literally, launching her head at the door to make the loudest possible noise) to get to you. She always had to be ON someone; near the end, arthritis limited her movement somewhat and she settled for being NEAR someone, but she was still constantly underfoot if you got it into your head to try to walk somewhere.
Looking back, we recognized that in those last couple days before her final week began, she wasn't pestering us in the mornings anymore. She was tired and getting ready to leave us.
We miss you, Gracie.
We now have two new kittens and they are rambunctious and hilarious. One is very loud and mischevious; the other is demure and sweet. They are fantastic and their energy is definitely healing (when it isn't pissing off poor Max). But there will always be a cat-shaped hole in our hearts that Gracie left behind.
