My Best Friend Pubert Options

[Pubert'sMom]

My best friend Pubert died this past Thursday night, a few days after her fifth birthday. She's the little black cat in my photo, snuggling with her friend Suri, and nothing feels the same without her.

I found Pubert as a two-week old kitten when I was living in Finland. She had been locked in an old farm outhouse by herself, no Mom or siblings in sight. She had double eye infections, ear parasites, intestinal parasites, fleas, and lice. It took a full month in medical quarantine to get her better, and then I was finally able to take her home. Now you would think, after that kind of start, that this kitten would be angry at the world. But she wasn't. She was the sweetest, most loving cat I have ever met. I never once heard her hiss. She never once scratched or bit. She just loved me unconditionally, along with her ever-present stuffed plaid mouse, and she adored every other cat she met. Even cats who didn't like other cats loved my Pubert.

A year after I found Pubert, the relationship I had traveled to Finland for abruptly ended, so I got my little cat a pet passport and brought her back to the United States with me. She handled the approximately 19-hour one taxi ride/two airplane flights/one long car ride trip like a pro, and we started our new life here by getting her two cat friends--Suri (a gigantic 8-year-old tortoiseshell) and Bonzai (a 5-year-old fellow black cat lady)--to pal around with. Pubert and her friends spent the days goofing around and napping together. In the years that followed I always called Pubert the cruise director of the house because she made it her mission to be sure that everyone--cat and human alike--was okay and having fun. She purred constantly, and loved getting belly rubs, playing chase, playing fetch, watching birds/dogs/squirrels from the windows, and eating cream cheese snacks. She spent every night curled up right next to me in bed, purring even while she dreamed. I was the one human in the whole world she trusted, and she was my best friend. I thought we would have another decade together at least, maybe more.

But about 6 weeks ago, Pubert started having some breathing problems. After a lot of blood tests and x-rays, my vets thought she had either a respiratory infection or possibly lung worms. She went through 3 different courses of antibiotics plus a steroid and a dewormer, but her condition didn't improve. So my vet said Pubert needed to have a bronchoscopy to get samples and determine the real problem. On Thursday morning I took her to the specialized vet hospital for that test, and as we were waiting for the doctor to review her x-rays, Pubert crawled across the examining table and rested her head against my stomach and purred. As I look back on it now, I think she knew something bad was going to happen.

I called the hospital later that afternoon and the vet said Pubert had made it through the test fine and was breathing much better, but needed to stay overnight in the oxygen cage for monitoring. Then, at about 10PM, the phone rang and the vet said Pubert had gone into respiratory arrest. They asked if I wanted them to perform CPR. I said yes, and they brought her back. She rested comfortably for another half-hour or so, and then the vet called again and said she had relapsed into respiratory and cardiac arrest. I asked if she would have brain damage if they brought her back again, and the vet said it was very likely. Pubert died a few minutes later.

Everything about this was so sudden, and until the tests done on Pubert's lung tissue come back, I still don't even know what she had or what caused her death. But I am in complete shock. I can't stop crying and am finding it difficult to do even the simplest tasks. Everything feels strange and surreal. The house seems so quiet and empty. My other cats keep looking for Pubert and obviously miss her. I just don't know how to make it through the day without having my little friend around. Maybe I'll feel a little better once I get her ashes back (I want her buried with me whenever it's my turn to go), but it seems like little comfort right now.

The only thing that gives me any hope is trying to believe I'll see Pubert again, and that when I do it will be forever. I'm not a religious person by nature, but last night I dreamt I was sitting in my living room with a family member. I looked down, and there was Pubert with her cat friends, coming over to my feet to be petted. She wasn't sick. She was as happy as could be. And I turned to my family member and said, "Look! She's not gone after all!" I also read that Rainbow Bridge piece yesterday (the one about cats and other pets playing together on the other side, waiting for their owners to arrive). That was lovely. But I still feel so sad. I miss my little Pubert. I miss cat, my best friend, and I want her back. I really do.

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