Today my undeniably favorite cat, Kietze, died. Because of her old age and her deteriorating condition over the last month I knew her end would come sooner rather than later. It did not come as a great surprise, nor was it as shocking a loss as Ronnie's sudden demise only last week, but it is still a cause of great sadness for me personally.
Kietze has been with me for most of my life, since she first entered it some 20 years ago. A small kitten, escaping from an abusive household, we lovingly took the wild and frightened animal in. Her harsh first few months in life were revealed in her aggressive and belligerent nature, but under our wings she slowly grew out of all that. As she got older, she became increasingly mild and good-natured. The old cat who lived with me closely for the last two years wasn't anything in character like the temperamental, semi-feral cat we accepted all those years ago, having changed her attitude because of the love and care she received from us. She appeared noticeably thankful for the alternate life style we offered her. Especially when she moved in with me to enjoy her last years at old age in a peaceful, quiet environment where she was the only cat around and where she had my full attention.
Old age made its mark on her the last few months. She had become largely incontinent, which I accepted without complaining. She was deaf and her eye sight wasn't what it used to be. Her breathing and purring sounded uncomfortably unhealthy of late. Her hair was a genuine mess. She grew ever more skinny, though she had a fairly healthy appetite until two weeks ago, and she drank quite a lot of water on a daily basis. Despite all these signs of rapid deterioration, she still liked to be shown affection though, and returned the feeling vith vigor. Her sweet tooth remained until her last day (whenever butter was in her presence, she would appear not a day over fifteen), as did her stubbornness to do things she has better not considering her frail body. That last character trait seems to have been her undoing. I returned home tonight to find her with one paw entangled in an awkward position to my couch, as if she had tried to jump on it but missed her mark and took a bad fall. It was quite a shock to come home and find her like that, her lifeless body not showing rigor mortis just yet, as if it had occurred only an hour before. I blame myself for going to the movies tonight, thinking I might have prevented this from happening. But I know full well that it was definitely only a matter of weeks, days even, before she would succumb in some other way. I accept she has lived a full life, to an age none of my previous cats had the fortune of reaching, but doubt will haunt me for quite a while concerning the possibility of a gentler death.
Where do I go from here? Kietze was sort of a "substitute" for my previous (personal) cat, Draco, who died two years ago at too early an age because of a terrible illness. Kietze was lucky enough not to die of disease, but sure needed rest in her senior years. My parents recognized her need for solitude and we decided she would live her last few years in greater confort at my side. She did, and now her life has finally come to its natural end. But there are no substitutes for Kietze. The strong bonds I formed with both Kietze and Draco took years to develop, and though I love the cats that still live with my parents, I don't feel that connection with any of them, so they will stay where they are. I live in hope I can find another cat, in an asylum maybe, for whom I could ever care as much as for his/her predecessors. But Kietze was with me for such a long time, we basically grew up together. It's unlikely I will ever love another cat as deeply and heartfelt as I did her.
Farewell, dear cat.
