Sanka

When I got back from New Orleans, I immediately put the boys to bed (it was late) and then started up my usual "just got home" routine, unpacking bags, starting up laundry, etc.  Our house/pet sitter left me a note telling me the animals did great all weekend long, and that I'd need to feed them that night when I got home.

So, I fed all the animals, but noticed our usual loud and demanding Sanka was nowhere to be found (or heard).  The cat food dish had been left out, however, so I assumed she had already eaten.  I gave her her normal evening insulin shot (she's diabetic) and finished up with my chores before bed.

The next morning (Monday), I noticed Sanka was still not interested in eating.  What's worse, she was laying by the water bowl but totally not interested in drinking, even when I moved her closer.  I then carried her to her food for the morning but she wouldn't budge.  Not interested.

So, I decided to call the vet.  We had an emergency with her a couple of weeks ago where her blood sugar had dropped through the floor - I was worried maybe her sugar levels were out of whack again.  But, the vet tested her levels and everything looked normal.  She was, however, very dehydrated (not a huge surprise since she wasn't eating or drinking) and her temp was lower than normal (not a great sign).  I left her with them for the day so they could get some fluids back in her, and give her an appetite stimulant to see if she'd eat some.

When I picked her up that afternoon she was doing better.  Her sugar levels were still normal - and she was better hydrated and while not a lot, ate a little bit too.  The vet sent me home with some meds to help stimulate her appetite if she stopped eating again.  My instructions were to get her back to a stable state where she'd eat and drink again - since she was clearly not feeling well.

She did ok Monday night and seemed ok Tuesday morning.  But by the time I got home Tuesday night, she was in a sad state of affairs again.  In fact, she was MUCH worse than the previous couple of days.  I called Jon that night to let him know I was pretty sure she was on her last breath, that I'd be taking her back to the vet the next morning but that I was afraid we may need to put her down (something we had already discussed earlier when I was noticing her odd behavior).

She was extremely lethargic and still, not moving at all when I came to check on her (she was laying on our bed).  I picked her up and carried her to her food, but she just slumped down and laid next to the food, not interested in anything.  I tried holding little bits of kibble in my hand up next to her mouth, but nothing.  I took one of the pills the vet gave me, crushed it up, mixed it with water, and fed her the water through a syringe (since she also wasn't drinking out of the water bowl I put next to her).  She hated the syringe and kept spitting the water out.

That night, I made sure to put her next to the heat register, wrapping extra towels and blankets over her to keep her warm.  She cried out a few times in the middle of the night, not her normal meow but a very pitiful cry for help.  :(  It was about 1am, but I got up and searched for her (she wasn't in her bed anymore) and found her just lying very still, in her litter box.  It was alarming to find her there, because she really did look dead at that point, her energy was so low.  :(   I picked her up and carried her back to my room for the night, figuring she may not make it through the night and she'd want to be near me and the dogs.  I pet her awhile until she went back to sleep (she did finally purr a bit which was great), but was so worried I kept waking up throughout the night to check on her.

By morning, she again looked dead, she was so still and without energy.  She wasn't, so I wrapped her up and took her back to the vet (I took the boys to school first because I didn't want them to be with me if I needed to put her down). 

Sure enough, she was in a horrible state.  She was extremely dehydrated with a very low temp again, worse than before, and the vet was pretty sure her kidneys weren't functioning anymore, but instead shutting down.  He remarked she was likely "knocking on death's door" :(

I called Jon, teary-eyed and gulping down sobs, in between relaying what the latest prognosis was.  It was extremely hard for me because I so wanted Jon to be there and see Sanka one last time.  But, we decided, given how much pain she appeared to be in, her age (18), and that even using extraordinary efforts to prolong her life, the doctor thought she'd likely only last a few more days, we decided to put her down.

I stayed with her while while the vet and nurse gave her the shot.  They were incredibly gentle and kind through the entire process and we talked about how interesting it was that a young man (Jon) would have kept this cat (Sanka) with him for so long.  The vet remarked how unusual it was, and that usually men will part from their cats at some point in their lives, not taking them along with them, or for so long.

I agreed.  As a final story before Sanka left us, I described to them the first time Jon and I met and started dating.  Sanka immediately took to me, which really impressed Jon.  Apparently (so he told me), she "hated", hissed and clawed at any previous girlfriend he had dated, and she had never liked any of his girlfriends like she liked me.

The vet so wisely observed,

Aha, so Sanka approved.  She chose you.

And, driving home that morning thinking it over, he was probably right.  She definitely did approve of me and seemed to love me endlessly.  I like to think there are many reasons why Jon chose me.  But, it's quite possible that was also one of them.  ;-)


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When Jon returned home yesterday, I think it finally hit him - hard - that Sanka was gone.  He posted on Facebook about Sanka's passing later that evening, and I think his post sums it up nicely:

Through thick and thin, for better and for worse, she was always there for me. R.I.P. Sanka 1994 - 2012

Twyla

A couple of years ago, I drafted some thoughts on Twyla along with a few pictures I took of her at the time, but never remembered to finish posting to the blog.

Sadly, this will be my last on Twyla. As luck would have it (good or bad), we happened to see Twyla lying in the middle of the street (one block over from our house) on our way to a friend's house this evening. I recognized her half a block away and saw she was still alive, mouth open, likely meowing for help, so I made Jon pull over immediately so we could check her out.

Sure enough, it was our precious little Twyla.

She was badly hit, with a terrible head injury (I'll spare the details), but still moving slightly and trying to get up. Jon called animal control and went back to our house to get some towels to wrap her in, while I stayed guarding her from any more trauma, directing oncoming cars to slow (the hell) down and move to the other lane to go around us. A couple of people stopped to ask if I was ok -- I explained that someone had hit my cat, and we had just found her -- while uttering those words out loud, I could feel my chest get heavy, my eyes start to swell and my throat catching.

While we had given up on keeping Twyla indoors (she was always very feral and skittish), she was still my cuddly fur ball. The first pet that Jon and I both found and owned together.  And the thought of losing her, right there at that moment, in front of me, pained me.

It felt like eternity, but was probably only 10 minutes, before Jon showed up again, with the truck, some towels and a box to carry her in. Sometime during the time that I was waiting for him and reassuring her that she was going to be okay, she died. While it was an awful way to go, I'm glad I was there with her during those last few moments of her life (and can only hope that me being there helped comfort her some).

We love and will miss you Twyla dear, but hopefully now you've found a place where you can happily dance forever.

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Draft post from August 2009:

And then there's Twyla. The one who gets stuck on roof tops and is scared of everyone, and I mean everyone, except for me.

She's light on her feet, she runs on tippy toes and scuttles out of sight at a moment's notice. But, when she sees me lie down on the couch or bed, it's cuddle time. She immediately jumps onto my chest, kneading nonstop, with her butt in the air begging for pets, until she can finally find a comfortable spot to lie down on.

She's our most petite cat by far - yet over the last year she's definitely been putting on the weight. She's hardly home long enough to eat a few pieces of kibble, so we're pretty sure she's getting food from the neighbor's.

As quiet as a mouse as she is (her mews are fainter than a kitten's), she's been known to leave scars (on friends) with her razor sharp claws. Yet she still holds that special spot in our hearts and I'm always thankful the day we found her and decided to bring her into our home.

Mortality

Ever since I got pregnant with Logan, Jon and I have taken a much more serious look at our lives, what is in (and out) of our control, and our overall mortality. It's certainly a topic that weighs heavy on the mind as is, but when you become a parent, I think it just increases exponentially and takes a much more FRONT AND CENTER place in our minds.

So, this week, I'm sad to say, we've had a few reminders of (our own) mortality. And frankly, both Jon and I are a little shaken by them.

A few days ago, a good friend of Jon's, someone whom Jon has worked with for many years, suddenly and unexpectedly died of an embolism. He woke up one morning, dropped his two kids off at school, came home, and died. At the ripe old age of 43. Jon went to his viewing and funeral just a couple of days ago - and it certainly has weighed heavily on his (both of our) mind.

Bright and early this morning, Jon texted me to let me know there had been a shooting in Cupertino, where three people died and several were injured. But what was worse, was that the mad man was armed, dangerous, and still on the loose. Schools (including our kids') were on lock-down all day long. I've done my best to keep it out of my mind today, but certainly nervous and worried about Logan and Callum's safety. And the fact that I can't do anything at the moment to protect them or keep them safe, particularly given I'm not even in town! is maddening, I must admit.

Later this afternoon, we learned that Steve Jobs passed away. An amazing man, a true leader and visionary, who has done so very much in the short time that he had. My colleagues and I were discussing how the news feels somewhat surreal, particularly given, again, that we aren't actually in the Bay Area right now.

Non-coincidentally (I hope), one of the sessions I attended today discussed the importance of being financially organized, since you can't always be prepared with what life hits you (examples were divorce and death!).

So you can bet your ass I texted Jon right then and there. WE NEED TO FINISH OUR WILL AND LIVING TRUST ASAP. Full stop.

I can't wait to get home and hug my three boys tight.

At peace

I picked up Lola's ashes yesterday. They did a beautiful job with the urn and ceramic tile (including her own paw print). We plan to scatter her ashes along the lake in Tahoe that she loved to swim and chase ducks in, whenever we can make a trip up there next.

In Memory of Lola Golightly

Saturday morning, I lost my best friend. My furry kid.


Although we were expecting this day to come relatively soon, it still hit us really hard and unexpectedly. Lola simply turned for the worst, literally overnight.

Saturday morning, she didn't come greet us at our bedside like she usually does, which was the first sign. I got nervous and looked around the house for her - finding her laying limp and despondent in her crate. I had a feeling she had been there all night, poor thing. I sat on the floor next to her for about an hour, petting her, talking to her, loving her, while Jon called several of our vets to see what we should do (although, truly, we already knew).

It was time.

We stayed with her until her last breath, holding her in our laps and telling her how much we loved her. I like to think she felt better knowing I was there with her until the end, falling asleep with me by her side, but it's always hard to know. So, we just pray we did the right thing, in the most humane act as possible.

Since then, I've had a really rough time coping, letting go, and accepting her death. It doesn't seem real. Every little thing in our house reminds me of her. Her toys are still strung about, her food dish sits waiting to be filled, her crate sits empty and bare. I found a toy of Logan's, all chewed up by Lola from God knows when, hiding under the couch.

But most of all, everything is very quiet without her following me around the house or trying to sneak any dropping of food in the kitchen as I make breakfast. I don't hear the familiar clicking of toenails against the hardwood or tags clinking together as she races up and down the hallway, in and out the doggy door.

About 5.5 years ago, when we picked her up from a nearby Hunting Preserve (she was the unwanted runt of the litter), the breeders "warned" us. Whoever she sat next to on the ride home would become her mom - and that I absolutely was. Even when she threw up on me, in the car, on the roadside, that entire first ride home, I was instantly in love. And she was of me.

I remember the first week we had her, I worked from home to help ease the transition. When talking to my boss at the time, I described her as "The Velcro Dog" - and I doubted whether I was actually up for such a challenging, dependent, must-be-by-my-side-at-all-times dog.

Little did I know, she would teach me a thing or two about enjoying constant companionship, having a fun loving attitude, and letting her ears down, flapping in the wind. :)

She was definitely full of love and energy, until the very end. And amazingly, she never really let the lymphoma get to her (or at least, never showed it) until her very last day.

We love you Lola. And we already sorely miss you.

I hope you may have endless lakes to swim in, chasing ducks (and squirrels and cats) to your heart's content. And, may you have plenty of warm laps to cuddle up next to at night.

In Memory of Lola Golightly
June 30 2004 - March 6 2010

Ride home from the Hastings Island Hunting Preserve

11.5 Weeks Old

Mommy and Lola bonding time (first night home)


"The Velcro Dog"

First trip to Lake Tahoe (Sept 2004)

Pointing the sprinkler

Yes, we actually dressed her up for her first Halloween
(but didn't do it again after this) ;-)

Bonding time for the two pups

The teenage years (Nov 2004)

Uncle Nathan and Lola playing in the snow

Right at home stretched out on Mommy's lap

Looking like an old lady (Oct 2005)

Mama is soon to be hitched (Mar 2006)


Lola has always been known to chew (and destroy) anything she sinked her teeth into...

What she did best - Run, Lola, Run!


Taking over Daddy's spot in bed


Sunbathing (Jul 2007)

One week before we moved into our new house and Logan was born.
Not sure which was more traumatizing! ;-) (Dec 2007)

She meets a worthy contender for Mommy's lap



The stand off. (Sept 2008)




Not feeling so hot after a Chemo session (Feb 2009)

Logan's first encounter with snow, and unfortunately, Lola's last.

My two darlings.

Just finished her (first) Chemotherapy program and in full remission (Jul 2009)

Looking for some spare lap space on Preggo Mama - again (Jan 2010)

Some of her meds turned her into a sneaky counter surfer!

Begging Daddy for more playtime :)

Lola's last road trip, to visit some of Jon's family in LA

This is how we show our love Lola.

Like this.

And like this.

We love you sweetie. You will be missed, but never forgotten.