Chai Ping

My best friend in college had a cat, Chai Ping, that was so old that when her mom took it to the vet to be put to sleep the receptionist looked in the box containing Chai Ping and said "Mrs. Robinson, I don't think that will be necessary".

Such was the case with our dear cat, Nose.

He was such a good cat. He arrived during my last week as a waitress, right before my doctor said I was too injured to continue. He was about three days old, and his eyes weren't even open, so we bottle-fed him. During that sad first year on Disability when I could pretty much only do my physical therapy and then rest, he (and our original cat, as well) was my constant companion. Unlike her, he was needy and a little annoying. When I was in grad school he'd pull the post-it flags out of my research material, making me half-crazy. He and mrguy were my link to that past where we lived on sacks of rice, carrots and expired packaged Indian food that cost 50 cents a package at the local grocery.

Here is Nose at about three days old:

 

That teensy little cat grew into the hefty boy that the mama called "Mister Tubbo". And at our last house, which had a central hallway, he did what we called "Laps". If mrguy was preparing cat dinner with the kitchen door closed, Nose would trot around the house in a circle, pausing to rise on two legs, put his paws on the kitchen door and listen. If he didn't think the bowl was coming soon, he'd continue circling, each time pausing at the door, as if his laps were causing the bowl to arrive. Occasionally he'd entice another cat to follow him, and they'd start to school, like fish. His highest number of laps recorded was, I believe, around 9. We loved showing this nightly spectacle off to friends and family.

Here he is at 15:
 

When we moved to our current house, he settled into elder statesmanhood. His closest sibling had paired off with the "kittens" (now ten years old) and he had arthritis and a bladder thing and eventually a tumor in there, but he continued to show his charm and enthusiasm for life and food and ear rubs until just before the end, which came 4 years after we got the number for the at-home euthanasia vet and 15 years after my mom first called him "Old Timer".

He turned 18 in this house. We thought that was pretty old. Here he is on his birthday:

 

This March, he turned 23. Here he is on his birthday. His eyes are big and scary because he's flying high on painkillers:

 
Our plan was to have the "final deed" done at home. But things did not go to plan. We met vet #1 who helped us evaluate his quality of life. When we went to make the appointment to put our boy to sleep we learned she was going out of town. Appointment was made with vet #2 for the next day. Mrguy had a gig that night, and when we came home...Nose was gone. We called vet #2 and learned that she doesn't "do pickup". So she told us that we should call our regular vet.

This ended up being a blessing in disguise. It was a sad day, but Mrguy said that he felt like we won the lottery, and I agree with him. He called the vet, and she was working on that day (her usual day off), and all of Nose's favorite people were working. He told them what was happening, and it was amazing. They brought us into a room we'd never seen, with low lighting and prettiness, and almost everybody joined us. Our vet talked to mrguy in private before I brought Nose in. And then we were met by the two ladies who work in the front who loved him and were best friends, and the vet tech who was Nose's very special friend and knew his personality and his preferences. We all stood around him and petted him and told stories about him and cried and hugged. It was like a wake, but for a cat. The vet tech was especially moved. She said that she'd made a promise to herself that she wouldn't get close to another animal after a little dog that she'd bonded with had died, but then Nose just got right in there and she fell in love with him. She knew that he did *not* like sharing a cage with his sister when they need to board, and she knew his likes and dislikes. She says that he passed away while we were out because he wanted to "do it on his own terms".

So all in all, our sweet boy got a good send-off. I'm sad I wasn't there, but his people gathered in his memory, and people who loved him did not have to put him to sleep. And we got to share his passing with them after they and we have worked so hard to give him a good life. 

The next day they sent us flowers.

So ends a cat life well led.