Trying To Cope With Loss Of My Cat, buried him yesterday Options

[wittley]

I'm new to this site, but I'm finding it hard to cope with the loss of my beloved cat, Winston,
who I lost yesterday. Friends & family are sympathetic, up to a point, but when I return to
my home (I live alone with my other cat, Basil)
I'm accutely aware that a presence is missing, of someone I loved dearly.
I moved in, with Basil, over 4 years ago. Winston made an appearance that winter,
& it was obvious he was living rough. I let him come in the porch
occasionally, & gave him food there - I was wary about taking him initially
as I felt it wasn't fair on Basil. However, as the weather got colder & he
wasn't looking too well,
I took him in. I tried to find out, in the village, if anyone owned him, but
no-one came forward. I got him checked out at the vet, who
reckoned he was about 8 years old, & they gave him all the
vaccinations etc; & he became a fully-fledged member of my
little household.

In those early days he was difficult to love. He was very aggressive -
often he attacked me if I stroked him. Just as often, he would
attack me again if I stopped stroking him. He would frequently go
for my toes, & I found the best thing was to stroke him briefly, then
run quickly! For a smallish cat, he had tremendously strong jaws, &
I often had painful bites on my hands! Poor Basil suffered too, & they
decided from the start that they hated eachother. I got the strong
impression Wisnton may have come from owners that had abused or
teased him - although he had obviously been living wild for a while, he
must have originally belonged to someone as he had been "done". I
felt the best way to deal with his wild ways & his temper, was through
love & patience. I didn't want to give him to a cats home as I didn't
want to unsettle him even further - he was nervous & insecure as it
was. It paid off. Within a year, he was a different cat. He was
settled & secure. He was never a really affectionate cat, like Basil,
but he had found a home he loved, he had calmed down alot, &
occasionally made a grand noisy entrance with little presents
for me (of the mouse variety).
Where Basil was/is big, soppy, fluffy & a bit silly, Winston was a real
cat's cat - a black, lithe, sleek, lean mean killing machine. He was a
very serious cat, but had occasions of being a little more
light-hearted - he never did the "goldfish" (that writhing about
on the floor thing that cats do) until one day when he saw Basil
do it, & saw how the result was getting stroked & made a fuss
of. After that he did it regularly. I grew to love Winston every
bit as much as Basil. As well as that, I had enourmous respect
for him. He was a highly intelligent cat, who had got used to
living by his wits. He was survivor. He was also a very regal
cat - he had dignity, poise & grace, & was permanently in
stealth mode. The 2 cats still didn't like eachother very
much, but they learned to tolerate eachother.

Late Autumn last year, he seemed to have trouble eating,
& was starting to lose weight. The vet said he had a bad
gum infection, plus needed some teeth removing. This was
done, & he was then on a course of antibiotics for a while.
He improved for a short while, then started losing more
weight, & seemed to have very little energy. Blood tests
were done, & they suspected thyroid problems, plus a
cold. Having previously slept in the living room, he then
decided to make a home for himself under my bed. He
seemed too tired to move half the time, so I put his
food & water under there, & he went out once or twice
a day to do his business outside. The day he passed water
on the floor under the bed, I knew something was very
wrong. He was always such a clean, dignified animal &
would normally never do that. More blood tests were
done. I thought maybe it was just old age (maybe the
vets had got his age wrong) & didn't want to admit it
may be leaukaemia, or feline aids.

A few days later, the vet phoned me up at work & dealt
me the blow that Winston had aids. I was devastated. I
read up on it, & found that it's very common in strays &
feral cats. Cats can live quite happlily for years with the
virus, but Winston now had fully blown aids, & he was catching
any cold or infection that was going. He was also anaemic, &
by now had lost 2kg in weight. Despite this, he still seemed
bright-eyed, & still purred when I stroked him, although
to do so, I had to shift the mattress so I could stroke him
through the slats in the bed. He now lived under there, &
had a litter tray under there, so he was warm, comfortable
& self-contained, & refused to come out. He had a
steroid injection, & tablets to help get rid of the anaemia.
This was about 2 weeks ago. Last week, he stopped eating.
I tried to tempt him with everything: beef mince (which he
loves), fresh fish, liver; but he wasn't interested. On saturday
morning, when I saw he had eaten nothing for the third day
in a row, I took him to the vet. Before I went, I carried him
around the garden, which he hadn't seen for some time -
his old hunting ground. We stood there in the spring sunshine
for a few minutes. I had told him many times that I loved him,
but I wish I'd told him again then at that point - I didn't realise
it would be last time he saw home. At the vet I asked if there
was any injection, anything, that could give him some strength
back. The vet shook his head, & said his time has come. I could
either do it now, or do it in a few days. Winston had lost another
half a kilo in a week, & barely had the energy to even stand.

Much as I was nowhere near ready for it, I realised it was the
kindest thing to do. I find it hard to cry in front of other
people, but at that point I just broke down, & just about
managed to get the words out - ok, do it now, if you think
that's best. I held him for a few minutes, my tears streaming
onto his head. I stroked him as they put the needle in, &
told him how sorry I was. He went quickly. My boyfriend
drove back as I held him to my chest, his tiny body lifeless.
We buried him in the garden yesterday afternoon, in his
favourite spot. Then we went to a local garden centre,
where I bought a couple of plants to put on his grave, &
a found a garden sculpture of a proud, slim, upright cat -
just the pose he always adopted - & put that on there
as well. I've been inconsolable ever since. My boyfriend
has been brilliant, & I love Basil with all my heart, but
nothing can fill the gap left by Winston. From being a
bad-tempered aggressive animal, he had grown into a
fine, handsome, well-behaved dignified & loving cat,
that I had loved & respected with all my heart. The 4
years he was with me were far too short. I had no idea
that the whole time he had been living on borrowed
time. I realise now that he knew he was dying, & was
just waiting to die, under the bed. My mother said that
when she was young, she had 2 dogs, who, when their
time came, left the house & went into the woods & lay
there. Animals know these things. My only hope is that
he knew how very much he was loved. I just wish I had
had more of a chance, in those past few weeks, to cuddle
him, instead of reaching under the bed to stroke him.
And I regret all those times, when he had been healthy,
when he had wanted to sit on my lap, but I had been
too busy doing something round the house. And I hope
he hadn't been lonely, lying under the bed while I was
at work all day. I hope that somewhere there is a cat
heaven, where he's scampering about, in full health,
in the sunshine. I just miss him, so, so much, my little soldier.

Thankyou so much for reading this.


***Hi....My name is Denise (Muffins), and I just wanted to let you
know that I edited your post, in that I shortened the right side,
so that readers wouldn't have to "drag - left to right", in order
to read each sentence....

**I DID NOT CHANGE, OR DELETE ANY WORDS***
Peace & Love, Denise (Muffins).****

This post has been edited by Muffins: Feb 7 2005, 01:42 AM

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