NEWS FROM THE SHADOWLANDS
Boxer is not doing well again.
Her kidneys aren't working as they should. So she slept all day yesterday and didn't seem to make any effort to eat or use the facilities.
(Litter box, ya know.)
Today I brought her into the vet, and she basically said either give her fluid shots every day or consider pulling the plug.
Well, that is a decision I'm not going to make by myself, and especially not today.
I don't know.
Either way, it sucks. I've buried three cats already.
Snippens was the cat of the house before myself and my brothers came along. She was stern, satisfied, and snippy - she was named because of the little orange snippet on her cheek. She was also senile when she got older. At night, she would meow loudly - MEROUW - and made lots of noise.
Yet, we made up. She was sleeping downstairs by the warm grille of the beer fridge (this was in 1993 or so) and I knew she wasn't long for this world. I told her she was a good cat, and began to pet her. She laid down and nuzzled my hand.
We brought her to the vet a few days later. She lived a long life, nearly seventeen - I think my folks got her when they got married or shortly thereafter moving into the old house.
Jasper was a foundling that came to us sometime in 1988 or 89 and was a solid black cat. She was declawed, but loved to play and bat at things. She never meowed as much as either of my other cats; she sort of chirped in a 'mre mre' type voice.
She had a very rough life, and when my brother was gone in China the first time - she was largely his cat, as he brought her in - Jasper was having stomach issues or something. We put her to sleep in 2000 while he was in China. She had a good run.
Lastly, Tiger. What can be said about Tiger that hasn't been said already? We got her shortly after Dad traded in the truck for the van, and she was the quintessential awesome kitty. She loved to be outdoors, loved to snuggle up against my feet - she was the only living thing to love the smell of my feet - and loved cat toys. She would play with mice, but didn't care for the taste. One time she cornered a mouse in the porch (new house) and had it trapped with Boxer's help - she had it by the tail, and looked up at me with the hang nose expression - "Now what do I do?"
Tiger lived a long healthy life, though she was often overweight and a victm of the 'empty bowl syndrome.' Nonetheless, she lived to the healthy age of 20 and died on a Tuesday, a week after I bought my laptop.
Why does that seem like a coincidence? I purchased my tablet about two weeks ago. Lame.
I'll save Boxer's epitatph for now. It sucks. She's healthy enough for today and is eating, but all she wants to do is sit out in the porch and watch gophers, birds, and the like.
She actually caught and ate a gopher a few weeks ago. Hopefully the darn thing wasn't diseased.
Here's hoping I have a few good weeks with Boxer yet. I'm not willing to make any decision regarding her final chapter just yet; at least not until the folks return from out west. Another trip to a square dance across country - I could've gone to Portland Oregon and Voodoo Doughnuts.
As I've been saying lately, there are worse sentances to be cursed with. A rough way to the start of the week and my tenure at Hamline, that's for sure.
I'll end this journal the same way Garfield paid tribute to Charles Schultz on May 27th, 2000.