"No more cats." That's what I said, and I remember it well....
A couple of months after Oscar died, Nicky came home from work and announced that a friend of hers needed to get rid of his cat. He was being evicted from rented accommodation and his new landlord would not allow pets. I told her that if she brought the cat back home, I would have nothing to do with it and that it was her responsibility.
The cat in question was a Siamese, I hated Siamese thought they were spiteful, ugly looking things. We went to see the cat and my opinion didn't waver, she was just minging... Nicky's friend had ended up with her, after she had been found cuddled up to her elderly owner who had died. When the police broke into the house, they found a dead lady being cuddled by a Siamese cat. The next door neighbour (Nicky's mate) took the cat in. He had no idea how old the cat was, whether she'd been spayed, innoculated or had any vet treatment whatsoever.
Nicky picked the cat up from her mate's house one evening and phoned me at work to let me know. "Just keep the ugly thing out of my way," I said. I got home from work, had a bath, made a brew and sat down to relax in my chair. Quick as a flash the darned cat jumped onto my knee and started purring loudly. I stroked her for a while, her name was Lucy and she remained on my knee until I went to bed. I soon became quite attatched to Lucy and wondered why I'd ever seen her as ugly. She was a pure bred seal-point with brown fur and black points, she had lovely beige fur on her belly, big cornflower blue eyes and was the most affectionate cat I'd ever had.
A year later, Nicky went to work abroad for a while, so Lucy stayed with me. When Nicky moved back to the UK, she went to live with her boyfriend, who hated cats. I kept Lucy, I had taken her to the vets when we'd first got her in order to estimate her age she was about 4. Lucy was always on my knee before my bum had even touched the chair. She purred constantly and had the loudest cry I'd ever heard from a cat. She would crawl up onto my chest when I was sitting down and would gently stroke my face with the pad of her paw.
When I got married (stupidly), my ex husband got a puppy. Lucy soon established that she was the boss, but she brought the puppy up, played with it, washed it and chastised it. They were inseperable, they had loads of fights but would also cuddle up together and kept each other company. When my ex hubby left, I kept the dog too.
All too soon Lucy became old, she still sat on my knee every day and still purred like a motorbike, but she couldn't run around playing silly buggers with the dog like she used to. One day, almost 2 years ago, I got up, fed the cat, then the dog... Lucy just walked away from her plate and refused to eat. I knew that she was unwell, I'd never taken her to the vet since our first visit, she'd never had a day's illness, always ate her food and half of the dog's if you'd let her. She was an old lady now, she still had the big blue eyes and the beautiful sleek coat but she looked frail, had only 2 teeth left and moved a damn sight slower than she used to.
I took her to the vet that day, who gave me the bad news that her breathing wasn't right, blood tests revealed a pancreatic tumor and the vet suggested a chest drain to make her breathing easier. I couldn't believe that they would consider performing such an invasive procedure on such an elderly cat. I had had her for 12 years, she was 16 by this time. I refused the treatment and asked to see a different vet. The new vet agreed that she was far too old to be having a chest drain. He said that I must have looked after her really well, for a Siamese to reach such a grand old age is unusual. He put her to sleep for me that day, she was still purring but I didn't want her to be in any pain, so I said my goodbyes.
I went home with my empty cat basket. The dog just whined and whined she spent weeks looking around the house and crying, the tail barely wagged and she looked miserable. It took the dog months to get over the cat, they'd never been separated before and to this day when I walk the dog, whenever we see a cat the dog wags her tail, tries to play and whines when rejected.
I still miss my little old lady, I miss the purring and the warm patch on my knee, but I know that the last 12 years of her life were good ones....
That's it now though - definitely no more cats.
A couple of months after Oscar died, Nicky came home from work and announced that a friend of hers needed to get rid of his cat. He was being evicted from rented accommodation and his new landlord would not allow pets. I told her that if she brought the cat back home, I would have nothing to do with it and that it was her responsibility.
The cat in question was a Siamese, I hated Siamese thought they were spiteful, ugly looking things. We went to see the cat and my opinion didn't waver, she was just minging... Nicky's friend had ended up with her, after she had been found cuddled up to her elderly owner who had died. When the police broke into the house, they found a dead lady being cuddled by a Siamese cat. The next door neighbour (Nicky's mate) took the cat in. He had no idea how old the cat was, whether she'd been spayed, innoculated or had any vet treatment whatsoever.
Nicky picked the cat up from her mate's house one evening and phoned me at work to let me know. "Just keep the ugly thing out of my way," I said. I got home from work, had a bath, made a brew and sat down to relax in my chair. Quick as a flash the darned cat jumped onto my knee and started purring loudly. I stroked her for a while, her name was Lucy and she remained on my knee until I went to bed. I soon became quite attatched to Lucy and wondered why I'd ever seen her as ugly. She was a pure bred seal-point with brown fur and black points, she had lovely beige fur on her belly, big cornflower blue eyes and was the most affectionate cat I'd ever had.
A year later, Nicky went to work abroad for a while, so Lucy stayed with me. When Nicky moved back to the UK, she went to live with her boyfriend, who hated cats. I kept Lucy, I had taken her to the vets when we'd first got her in order to estimate her age she was about 4. Lucy was always on my knee before my bum had even touched the chair. She purred constantly and had the loudest cry I'd ever heard from a cat. She would crawl up onto my chest when I was sitting down and would gently stroke my face with the pad of her paw.
When I got married (stupidly), my ex husband got a puppy. Lucy soon established that she was the boss, but she brought the puppy up, played with it, washed it and chastised it. They were inseperable, they had loads of fights but would also cuddle up together and kept each other company. When my ex hubby left, I kept the dog too.
All too soon Lucy became old, she still sat on my knee every day and still purred like a motorbike, but she couldn't run around playing silly buggers with the dog like she used to. One day, almost 2 years ago, I got up, fed the cat, then the dog... Lucy just walked away from her plate and refused to eat. I knew that she was unwell, I'd never taken her to the vet since our first visit, she'd never had a day's illness, always ate her food and half of the dog's if you'd let her. She was an old lady now, she still had the big blue eyes and the beautiful sleek coat but she looked frail, had only 2 teeth left and moved a damn sight slower than she used to.
I took her to the vet that day, who gave me the bad news that her breathing wasn't right, blood tests revealed a pancreatic tumor and the vet suggested a chest drain to make her breathing easier. I couldn't believe that they would consider performing such an invasive procedure on such an elderly cat. I had had her for 12 years, she was 16 by this time. I refused the treatment and asked to see a different vet. The new vet agreed that she was far too old to be having a chest drain. He said that I must have looked after her really well, for a Siamese to reach such a grand old age is unusual. He put her to sleep for me that day, she was still purring but I didn't want her to be in any pain, so I said my goodbyes.
I went home with my empty cat basket. The dog just whined and whined she spent weeks looking around the house and crying, the tail barely wagged and she looked miserable. It took the dog months to get over the cat, they'd never been separated before and to this day when I walk the dog, whenever we see a cat the dog wags her tail, tries to play and whines when rejected.
I still miss my little old lady, I miss the purring and the warm patch on my knee, but I know that the last 12 years of her life were good ones....
That's it now though - definitely no more cats.
