Missing My Our Kitty Thunder

The last time I found myself on this forum was a little over 5 years ago when I lost my very first cat, Percy, to renal failure. The members here provided me with a wonderful sense of support and compassion, and I unfortunately am in need of this again today.

A little over 24 hours ago, my husband and I lost our little gray and white fur baby, Thunder. She was Percy's best companion and my husband's little girl. And a little girl she was! She was the runt of the litter and quite a character. When we adopted her 15 years ago, she was a tiny little 3 month old spastic ball of energy. We fell in love with her when we went to her foster family and watched her climb up a table, spaz out over something unknown, and subsequently fall off the table. What really won us over was why she was named Thunder. That tiny little kitty could purr up a storm!


(Adoption picture)

She lived a very good life with us and was well-loved and doted upon. I know that 15 years is about the average lifespan for an indoor cat, but even that knowledge cannot prepare you adequately for saying goodbye to your beloved pet. In the back of our minds we know that the end would be coming soon. Thunder was already beginning to slow down these past few months, she ate less, and she was getting thin and her fur matted. But then we were surprised this past Friday night when she even refused her favorite foods, chicken (she had a tendency to steal skinless chicken breasts from bowls) and treats. Even jumping onto the bed became a bit more of a challenge for her this past weekend, so we would help her on so that she would be able to snuggle us as we slept through the night. On Saturday night as we settled down to sleep, she took her place on the pillow above my husband's head like normal, but after a few minutes she jumped off the bed and headed into the living room. I got the sense then that something might have been up but kept in the back of my mind that in the past she would return later that morning.


(Taken the night before Thunder fell ill)

She never did on Sunday morning, but I brushed it off and thought that she decided to sleep under the bed like what she had done in the past. So, I went about my normal business and when I set out fresh food for her and her cat-sister, Holly, I expected to see her come running. Once again, she never did. So, the husband and I started to search for her. There was no way that she could have gotten out, so we checked in every spot imaginable. We ended up finding her under the couch. She had hidden herself and wet herself, and as my husband lifted the couch I picked her up gently and set her down onto a nest of sheets. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and she meowed sadly up at us. She had actually done a similar thing a few months back and had recovered fully, so we held on to the foolish hope that she would do the same. Even after we had placed her onto the sheets, she kept trying to get up to move into our bedrooms. Every few steps she would just drop down and rest, fully spent. And it continued that way until Monday morning.

We wanted to take her to the vet, but we were having work done in our house and there was no way we were able to reschedule or leave the workmen alone. So, we had no choice but to keep Thunder at home and let her pass on her own terms. On Monday morning, she was still with us but was growing more and more weak. It broke my heart to see her try to stand to make her way over to one of us, only to lose her energy and fall over onto her side with a thud. That's something I'll never forget. We watched her pull her way to the front door to lay down as she stared outside. Our other cat, Holly, even laid next to her and it looked as if they were watching the birds together one last time. The thing is, she and Holly were the biggest "frenemies" ever, but in Thunder's dying moments even Holly managed to show some compassion to her big sister. When the workmen finally came a couple of hours before lunch, Thunder somehow managed to find the strength to bring herself into our bedroom before I could even get to her. We placed Holly in there with her because my husband and I had to watch over what was going on.


(The very last picture I have of Thunder the day she died, watching the birds with Holly.)

As soon as the workers left shortly after 12, I immediately rushed to the room to check on Thunder. Now, I am a wimp when it comes to death. In a way I was thankful that I was not there when our first cat, Percy, passed away 5 years ago and I was so afraid that I wouldn't be able to see Thunder go. As soon as I opened the bedroom door, Holly rushed over to me and let out this meow that sounded like, "Mommy!!" I knew. I walked over to my side of the bed and found Thunder. She was already gone. In a way, part of me felt guilty that neither me nor my husband was there for her to stroke her head as she crossed over. And in another way, I feel guilty about how she suffered like that...but at the same time I wanted her to pass over on her own terms and in a place that was familiar to her. She hated her carrier and the car, which would have been sheer torture to her. My husband and I had our moment with our baby, and he took care of her body. She was wrapped in one of his old shirts so that she could "be with daddy forever" and I had surrounded her with half a dozen fresh plumeria flowers from the tree outside. After instructing me to leave the house, my husband took care of what was left of our baby.

It's been a little over a day since we said our goodbyes and it hurts. I know that it'll remain fresh and raw for a while, much like when we said goodbye to Percy. I've been crying off and on over how much I already miss her, and there have been times when I'd lie in bed and it's like I could still feel her walking on the pillows over our heads. At least I know that she and Percy have been reunited and that she is no longer in pain.

I Miss My Baby Boy Cat

Hello, everyone. I'm Grace and up until this past Wednesday I never thought that I'd find myself on a board like this one, pouring my heart out to other pet owners. The day after Valentine's Day, I had my heart broken by the passing of my beloved orange and white classic tabby, Percy. I adopted Percy when I was fresh out of graduate school and he was just 1 month old. I was his "Mummy" and he trusted me completely. He kept me company on the lonely days I was searching for a job, on 9/11, and he was there when I was studying for a teaching certificate. It was his meows that kept me from falling asleep about a year after I adopted him that helped to save me from an apartment fire. We were one of the last ones out of the building and I owe my life to him. It is because of that where I feel a bit guilty that I wasn't able to save him.


All hell broke loose last Saturday. I had noticed that Percy had been napping more than usual but never thought anything of it because that's what older cats do. He was still eating and drinking, so I thought everything was okay. Then my fiance picked him up to bring him over to me for a snuggle (which he LOVED), but he let out this terrible meow like he was in pain. We immediately set him down and he flopped over onto his side. I wanted to take him to the vet then and there, but because of an unforeseen circumstance, I was severely short on money (thanks a lot, economy!). I knew then and there that there was nothing I could do. I'm too proud to ask other people for money, and even if I did accept money from others, I would've felt guilty. So, all I could do the entire weekend was watch Percy helplessly. He continued to sleep, and when he was awake, he hobbled around weakly, struggling to sit up, falling over, and often times ended up in front of his water dish, where he tried in vain to drink. It was so hard to watch. His firm body now felt squishy, he laid down in his food, and when he drank, he only succeeded in drooling and letting all the water soak his bright orange fur. I now know what claimed the life of my baby boy: renal failure.

I still held out slight hope for a miracle that Percy would somehow get better, but I knew deep down in my gut that it wouldn't happen. Monday came and his condition worsened. His breathing was labored as the toxins continued to collect in his body. It was so hard to watch him in this condition, and I feel really rotten for hanging out in my bedroom away from him so that I wouldn't have to see him wasting away. I felt so guilty for not getting him help, but still too damn proud to ask for help. I told him over and over that I loved him and that if he needed to go, then it would be okay. I had secretly hoped since it was so close to Valentine's Day that he would just hold on, or else my heart would really be shattered.

He did hold on. Percy spent his last night with us on Valentine's Day. Even though he was so very weak, I think he knew that his time was coming very soon. Somehow, he made his way over to our bed and he climbed up and took his regular spot at the foot of the bed against my feet. He had been crying out for most of the day, but for some reason he was silent--it was almost as if HE was the one being strong for me. We then fell asleep for a couple of hours--him nestled against my feet. I felt him stir a while later, and by then Percy looked absolutely terrible. His fur was completely soaked, he smelled of death, and he had gotten up and was trying to walk toward me. At that point, I freaked out. I was afraid. I was scared at how he looked....I was scared that he would fall over dead in front of me. I freaked out and cried. Even my other cat started to his at him. Eventually, he crawled off the bed and laid on the floor next to me, where he fell asleep for the rest of the night.

When I returned from work that day, Percy was gone and had passed over to Rainbow Bridge. I never thought that losing a pet would be so hard. He was my first. I feel as if a part of me is missing. I'm not crying constantly or anything, but I do cry every now and then and just feel so empty.

Thank you for listening.




My Percy in happier days