Kit
She arrived on a summer’s day in August.
Where she came from no one knows.
She was small and frail, with no place to call home.
Malnourished and weak she squeezed through the trellis under our deck.
Finding a place of shelter and protection.
So we fed her outside. We called her Ms. Kit.
We were already feeding Thunder Snow. Our long-term outside cat feeder.
Kit made it a habit over time to come out from under to get food.
Occasionally there would be a confrontation with Snow.
It’s hard to be a referee.
Weak as she was, she was always the stronger.
Or to be clear, Thunder Snow who has never uttered a sound was easily dominated.
As time went on, Kit grew stronger.
Wounds healed and she became a familiar sight.
But she was old, blind in one eye, and didn’t hear well.
Her task became to tug on our heartstrings. She succeeded.
Then came the day in November when she decided to come inside.
She explored the house and went back to her under-deck home.
Days later she came in again.
It wasn’t long before she moved in.
She never let us get near her.
But she was satisfied with the arrangements.
Then came the seizure. It was time to get serious
To the vet we went. She had feline AIDS to add to her sight and hearing issues
Medication was given for an infection but the prognosis was not good.
So we did what we could. We fed her and cleaned up after her.
Thankfully, setting up 3 litter boxes in different rooms helped guide her.
As time passed the number of seizures increased.
Following each seizure, we were able to pet and comfort her.
But she would recover fast and then have nothing to do with us again.
As the seizures continued over the next 2 months, confusion reigned.
She had trouble walking with only one eye working, startled easily, and lost her balance more frequently.
It didn’t look good. Then came the bathroom accidents.
A call to the vet resulted in some anti-seizure meds to help, a seven-day supply
Seizures stopped but everything else got worse.
Five days later a decision had to be made.
Quality of life has always been the benchmark that we used to make our decisions about her.
Not only our quality of life but more importantly hers. Her time had come.
In all the time we knew her, she never complained and never sought comfort, though much was offered.
We did all we could to help her survive.
Six months was a lot longer than she would have had without help.
And that’s exactly what we tried to provide. We could do no less.
So today, Ms. Kit, as we let you move on, know that we will not forget you.
We wish we could have done more.
May you do well in your next life.
