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kurt_t
61 years old
Male
El Cerrito, CA
Born Nov-1-1962
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Camping, hiking, visual arts, writing.
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Joined: 2-July 10
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Last Seen: 29th October 2010 - 06:19 PM
Local Time: Mar 28 2024, 04:34 PM
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kurt_t

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29 Oct 2010
I went to an adoption event last month looking for cat, and a sixty-pound six month old black lab put me in a headlock and showered me with dog love. I said "Well, maybe I should think about a dog." Well, I didn't end up with the black lab because she preferred to be in a home with other dogs, and we really only have space for one (and long term probably one cat). But the pet rescue group called me up and said "Hey we just got this yellow lab. She's only 40 pounds and she's used to being an only dog. And she likes cats. Whaddya say?"

Well, they brought her right over to our house within hours of when she'd been surrendered, and it was just like some kind of magic happened. She just knew she was home.

People ask me "Is she friendly," and I just laugh and say "Oh please. She is the ambassador of love!" She loves every living creature. People, cats, squirrels, birds, skunks. I take her to the Petco, and she loves all the parakeets and the hamsters and whatever else they have in there.

And she's a swimmer! Oh you should see her swim. I tell my friends she's trying to evolve into a marine mammal.

More later. Trying to upload a photo.

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5 Jul 2010
It was two or three days after the Fourth of July, 1993, I held Flo in the palm of my hand. Her eyes weren't open yet. I took one look at her and I said to myself "This is my kitty from heaven." I think it was because she looked like the kitten version of my cat who'd just died that May (at the ripe old age of Lord knows). Same brown tabby coat. Same white fluff on her snout.

Flo's mother, Natalie Cat, was a pregnant stray who a friend of a friend had taken in.

I ended up adopting Flo and Natalie Cat and they were inseparable friends until Natalie died in July '07. Flo never did have another full time companion, but she did entertain a steady stream of visitors, human, feline and canine. She treated everyone with a certain baseline of hospitality-- even dogs and her temporary housemate Sancho, a veritable Zorba the Greek of the Cat World-- but some of her friends she really loved. You know how cats have their favorites. Well, Flo definitely had her favorites. My buddy Matt we used to tell him don't sit down until you're sure you don't need to get up for a while, because as soon as he'd sit down, she'd climb on his lap and sit there waiting for him to say something. And then anything he'd say she'd look up at him and purr and knead his leg.

"Yeah I'll have a beer." [Look up. Purr. Knead.]

"REI is having a sale. I'm thinking about getting some thicker socks." [Look up. Purr. Knead.]

It took so little to make Flo happy. I think that's one of the greatest gifts she gave me. She made me see all there is to be happy about in the world. Looking out the window. Listening to the birds. Reading your book. (Or in Flo's case, helping others to read their books.) "Look." She seemed to say to me. "Look how much there is to be happy about, to be thankful for. Sunshine. Birds. Music. Friends. Each other."

A week ago Wednesday, Flo died. I'm not even sure what exactly was killing her. Her health had been in decline for a couple of years. The last night of her life, she was acting like a cat who was about to die. We'd been treating her for an eye infection, and I told the vet "I don't think this is just an eye infection. I think her immune system is shutting down, and the only humane option at this point is euthanasia."

The vet agreed with me. He said he thought possibly a slow growing tumor had weakened her to the point where she was getting opportunistic infections.

Now this vet is a mobile vet, so Flo passed on very comfortably in her favorite spot on the bed with her two main people on either side of her. Couldn't have been more peaceful or gentle.

So how do I feel? I feel like the guilt truck ran me over and as I was trying to crawl out of the street the grief truck came around the corner and ran me over all over again.

I think I've managed to drag myself to the curb, but it feels like all I can do is sit here and think "Maybe it wasn't a slow growing tumor. Maybe it was me. Maybe I should have paid attention to Flo's symptoms instead of just telling myself 'She's an old cat. Don't worry about it. Besides, if you drag her to the vet for every little thing, you'll just stress her out.'"

And then there's sadness, the emptiness, the loneliness that we all feel, that I see here in every post. Every time I doze off reading a book, I wake up and I look for Flo. And my heart breaks all over again.


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