my beautiful Marble is gone.... - Democratic Underground

mike_c

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Sun May-20-07 01:42 PM
Original message

my beautiful Marble is gone....

Edited on Sun May-20-07 01:46 PM by mike_c

She was a calico cat, only about eight years old. She came to me almost seven years ago. She'd been abandoned and was living outside a local laundry. Everyone in town knew her, it seemed. Folks in the apartments above the laundry fed her, and everyone who visited the laundry loved her friendliness.

One night at a dinner party someone mentioned to my ex that she'd seen that cat at the laundry in pretty bad shape, apparently mauled and bleeding. My ex left and found her, and she was indeed badly injured. We took her to the vet and got her patched up, but had to move her into our garage for a month or so for post-op care. We swore it was only temporary-- hence the garage, symbolic of "not in the house"-- we already had a house full of cats-- and that we'd nurse her back to health and find her another home.

The problem was that she was SUCH a sweet cat. She tolerated having her wounds drained and cleaned if she could sit on my lap while I did it. She purred whenever she was on a lap or being held, and she positively clung. She gave it all back in unabashed affection. By the time she was healed, I was in love with her. Needless to say, my efforts to find her alternative arrangements were halfhearted at best.

So she became my calico sweetheart. Even when the ex and I were together Marble was my cat. She loved spending time in everyone's lap- one of my grad students dubbed her "the psycho lap kitty"-- but she would spend all day in my lap if I'd let her. She was small and light, and silky smooth, so she was never a burden. She often slept on the pillow beside me when it was cold at night-- those nights she was "the pillow princess."

She was never happy being confined indoors, but outside she never roamed beyond the yard. She would greet me when I came home at night, sitting atop the front gate when I pulled up and jumping down to stand beside my car door and meow loudly until I got out. We'd walk in together, and when I sat down to untie my shoes, she'd jump in my lap and begin to purr. She had a trilling, excited purr, almost exultant. Her purr didn't simply acknowledge contentment, it proclaimed happiness. She followed me sometimes when I walked to the post office or down the street, but she never roamed much on her own.

She was alpha from the beginning with the other cats. No questions asked. Despite her small size, she brooked no challenges to her authority. She was athletic and graceful. She alone of my cats was a routine excellent climber, often running out a slender plum tree branch to leap onto the roof, and back again. That branch was the width of my index finger. She never missed.

She was a beautiful longhair dilute calico. She was talkative. She was playful and kittenish. All cats are fine, but Marble was one of the most wonderful cats I've ever known. She was a blessing in my life.

She developed kidney disease about 18 months ago. We pulled her though a couple of bad times, and during this past winter she seemed her old self again-- gained some weight back, returned to her usual activity level, ate well, and so on. I gave her subcutaneous fluids when I could, just in case, and potassium supplements, but she fought the needle and it was difficult to give her fluids regularly. Still, she seemed so happy and active that I hoped she might actually be recovering from her kidney disease.

Last week she seemed a little listless, and on Tuesday she disappeared. She was probably close by-- under the house, in one of the barns-- but didn't respond when I called her. I began to worry.

On Friday evening she literally crawled in through the cat door. No obvious injuries, but she couldn't walk upright. Her hind legs would not straighten-- instead, she crawled in a sort of splayed out crab walk. This has happened to her in the past when she was seriously dehydrated and potassium depleted, so I got some potassium into her and about 100 ml of subQ fluid. I confined her to a bedroom and sat with her until she went to sleep.

She didn't seem any worse Saturday morning so I repeated the usual treatment, this time getting 150 ml of fluid into her. She was fidgety and complaining as usual with the needle so I took that as a very good sign. I gave her more potassium. My vet isn't available on weekends, but Marble didn't seem to be getting any worse, so I was hopeful that hydration would pull her through until Monday.

While I was sitting with her on Saturday afternoon she even got up and drank some water and ate a small amount of food. I was even more encouraged, despite her obvious weakness. She could not take more than a few of her splayed out crawling steps, but she was trying to move around.

Last night I gave her another 150 of fluid and more potassium. She was obviously weaker this time, and offered little resistance. Afterward, she raised herself up on her front legs and toppled over onto her side. I began to cry. I held her in my arms for an hour or so, me mostly sobbing, Marble purring quietly and meowing occasionally. Although very weak, she occasionally pushed against me when she wanted to shift position.

I put her to bed about 10:00 PM. She cried out several times during the night-- whenever she did I tried to be positive about it, urging her to be pissed off, to be bitchy, that's a good sign.

When I checked on her about 7:00 this morning she was still alive, but much weaker. She could move her front legs but her back legs seemed inert. She could not lift her head, but she was conscious, and meowed at me. I had planned to give her more fluids this morning but decided not to torment her with needles any further. I gathered her up in my arms and held her, stroking her and telling her what a sweet girl she was. She purred for a while, then started dropping in and out of consciousness. I think my sobbing aroused her a few last times, because she'd move her head and mew a little, but mostly she was out for the last couple of hours. I talked to her and stroked her anyway, and I held her in my arms until she died. I watched her last real breath. She mewed when she let it go, and her head settled against my arm. She died about 10:00 this morning, Sunday, May 20.

Marble was always happiest being held and stroked. I know she was aware of me at least some of the time during her last hours in my arms. Oh, my beautiful Marble. I'm so sorry there wasn't more I could do for you. You'll always be my sweet girl.

I've buried a number of my best friends in the backyard over the years. It is never easy. This time it's spring so there are abundant roses to send with her. I'll bury her with some of the toys she liked best.

I'm sorry this was so long. There is no one else for me to share my grief with now.