Back in 1998, my daughter brought home a kitten who's mother had been run over by a car. The kitten, wasn't even weaned. She asked if we could take care of it over the weekend while she looked for someone to adopt it (as she understood my dislike for cats). I okayed the weekend and then another week. I was adament that the kitten had to go by the end of the following weekend. I got over ruled by the wife, who is allergic to cats and dogs. I said if the cat was going to stay, I was going to name it and NO ONE could over rule the name. Thus, the kitten was named PITA (Pain In The A$$). No matter how much I tried to hate and ignore this cat, he would always crawl up in my lap and proceed to purr for hours on end. Over the years, this cat continued to prevent me from hating it. After my surgery to repair my shoulder that was blown out in the military, PITA would lay there purring for hours and hours. After my heart attack, he would crawl up in bed and lay down next to me. Every so often, he would reach out and touch my face, the whole time purring. When we moved down to the farm, he turned out to be a great mouser. Any mouse stupid enough to come into the house ended up dead and laying by the front door. He was a great source of laughter too. If you called his name he would meow back. Then all you had to do is whisper his name and he would respond by mouthing a meow without making a sound. Saturday, he quit eating. Sunday he wouldn't drink water either. I took him to the vet Sunday night and he was diagnosed with diabetes. He was severely dehydrated and I was told he needed to be kept overnight. Monday, he wasn't doing any better and they had to force feed him. My wife and I drove to the animal clinic and spent an hour with him. This morning, the vet called and said it didn't look good. I drove to the clinic and was advised that he needed to be put down. I walked outside with him and he started purring and looking around. After a while, I decided I could not have him put down in the sterile environment of the clinic. I told the vet that PITA and I were going home. We got home around 12:00 PM and I took him to the spare bedroom where he spent many hours sunning himself. I laid him on the bed and he meowed weakly and began purring. The wife and I laid in the bedroom with him until 3:00 this afternoon. He meowed once and then died. We took him back to the vet to have him cremated. While at the vet, they took him back and brought out a card with his paw print and the following printed on it. I'm not there with you today, but know that I haven't gone astray. I am the wind blowing through your hair, and the warmth you feel in the air. Whe that smile creeps on your face, remember that I am in a good place. And when you're feeling sad and down, recall memories of me running around. You don't need to look low and high, just search way down deep inside, and know that we'll never be apart, for I have left my paw prints in your heart. The vet looked at me and said "I know its difficult because they are like family." I corrected him by replying "They're not like family, they are family." My wife cried all the way home, to include the trip to the tire store as we picked up a nail on the way to the vet and the tire went flat while we were there. For those of you with pets, enjoy all the time with them you can. Even though I really don't like cats in general, this one won me over and now there is an empty spot in my heart.
I am sorry Iowa Veteran! It is never easy to lose a pet that you had such a fondness for.Sounds like he was a very neat cat!
Very sorry to read that. I had a great cat, she lived with me for 18 years. I still get teary when I think about her. You're right they are family.
