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Last Thursday evening, I noticed that Buddy, our almost 20 year old snowshoe kitty, appeared very bloated. He was still eating, drinking, peeing/pooping and all the important things, and didn't appear to be in pain, however he bit at me a little when I tried to pick him up.
On Friday when I got home from work the bloating had gotten worse. I took him to the vet first thing Saturday morning. They did x-rays and he had a large mass on his liver which was most likely cancer. And his internal organs were shutting down. At his age and condition, I had little choice but to do the humane thing and put him down. I am devastated and can't stop crying.
Buddy would have turned 20 years old this spring. He was diagnosed with mouth cancer in November of 2015 and only given a few months to live then. We got a bonus 14 months with him that I wasn't sure we would get.
Buddy was very much loved, and he lived a very long and happy life. He was such a big part of our lives for so long, and we are going to miss him so very much. RIP Buddy Boy, 1997-2017.
Emma's emm I feel your pain even though I don't know you we all share a bond with our pets that will never ever be broken. I had to have my 18 year old cat put to sleep Friday and I'm devastated but I didn't want her to suffer. Right now I'm just grieving in my own way and so should you. Even though we have other cats, smokey and I shared a special bond. You will get through this even though it seems like you won't . You had a very beautiful furry friend.
Buddy definitely had lots of personality. Here is his story:
In 1997, my parents were living temporarily in a small house on the outskirts of a suburb while their house was being renovated. Buddy was maybe 3 months old and feral. My mom, who has had a soft spot for animals (but especially Snowshoe cats, we had them before we even knew they were a recognized breed. We called them "reverse siamese.") began feeding Buddy whenever she saw him hanging around. This began his lifelong love with canned tuna, among other human foods that he got very rarely as special treats (cheetos--the crunchy kind only, tiny bites of Arby's potato cakes, chicken, and the aforementioned tuna).
Soon, it became time for my parents to move back into their home. Two days before moving day my mom called me on the phone, sobbing hysterically (and she usually wasn't one for hysterics)...."I just can't leave Buddy... He's going to die... you have to come and get him!!..." I already had a cat at the time, Tootsie, and didn't really want another one. But my mom wore me down, and we grabbed the cat carrier and went to get Buddy.
My oldest daughter, who was 10 at the time, was the only one able to get close enough to Buddy to catch him, and it took time, but eventually she caught him and we put him in the carrier and took him home. We got him home and opened the carrier and he ran under the couch and hid. I sat on the floor very quietly many times over the course of the next few days and slowly, he crept closer and closer, until I could touch him, then pet him a little, then pick him up, then hold him for a minute, then hold him longer, until one day about a week after we brought him home, he would come out and jump into my lap to be held and snuggled. He soon began to love being pet, held (on his back, like a baby), and snuggled. He chose his person -- my oldest daughter of course (but I was a close second) -- and he began sleeping with her on her pillow in her bed. When she moved away 8 years later he settled for me, and slept on my feet at the foot of our bed.
When he was 3, my best friend, who also happened to live next door, had a baby. As she reached toddlerhood she treated Buddy like a stuffed animal, and sometimes not too gently, and at first I was afraid he would try to scratch or bite her. But he took it like a champ, and never so much as hissed or extended a paw. Two years later our youngest daughter was born and once again, he was so gentle and loving and tolerant. He was well-known in our neighborhood as he made the rounds getting head scratches and attention (and sometimes, extra food when he could charm it out of certain neighbors).
Although Buddy quickly came domesticated and grew to love humans, he never lost that feral kitty instinct. As much as we wanted to have him be an indoor kitty, he was insistent on going outside until we finally gave in. And he was a determined and excellent hunter and kept his neighborhood territory free of just about any wild critter who was smaller than he was. He was such a marshmallow with humans ("love me, pet me, pay attention to me!") but he wasn't at all nice to other animals, so after Tootsie died soon after we got Buddy, he became an only kitty.
Buddy was very vocal and he had a loud insistent MEOW when he wanted to communicate. In the last 10 years or so of his life, he was so attached to us that if we left on a vacation or holiday, when we returned he would follow us around the house for a week, alternately scolding us and rejoicing because we were back. He was a beautiful cat, with his "Groucho Marx" moustache and his white feet and chest, and he knew it. He was rather vain and loved his collar with its red heart ID tag. He loved being brushed and would lie there relishing every minute, and then would preen as if to say, "Look at me! Aren't I gorgeous?!"
He had many nicknames -- Buddy-Boy, Budders, BootyBoy, WeenieButt-ButtKitty, just to name a few. He loved when I would say, "Who's the Best Kitty EVER?... BUDDY is!!!" and when my sister would pet him and say in baby-talk, "Buddy, Oh My Goodness!!!"
He really was the best kitty ever and I miss him so much. Thank you all again for your kind condolences.
Buddy definitely had lots of personality. Here is his story:
In 1997, my parents were living temporarily in a small house on the outskirts of a suburb while their house was being renovated. Buddy was maybe 3 months old and feral. My mom, who has had a soft spot for animals (but especially Snowshoe cats, we had them before we even knew they were a recognized breed. We called them "reverse siamese.") began feeding Buddy whenever she saw him hanging around. This began his lifelong love with canned tuna, among other human foods that he got very rarely as special treats (cheetos--the crunchy kind only, tiny bites of Arby's potato cakes, chicken, and the aforementioned tuna).
Soon, it became time for my parents to move back into their home. Two days before moving day my mom called me on the phone, sobbing hysterically (and she usually wasn't one for hysterics)...."I just can't leave Buddy... He's going to die... you have to come and get him!!..." I already had a cat at the time, Tootsie, and didn't really want another one. But my mom wore me down, and we grabbed the cat carrier and went to get Buddy.
My oldest daughter, who was 10 at the time, was the only one able to get close enough to Buddy to catch him, and it took time, but eventually she caught him and we put him in the carrier and took him home. We got him home and opened the carrier and he ran under the couch and hid. I sat on the floor very quietly many times over the course of the next few days and slowly, he crept closer and closer, until I could touch him, then pet him a little, then pick him up, then hold him for a minute, then hold him longer, until one day about a week after we brought him home, he would come out and jump into my lap to be held and snuggled. He soon began to love being pet, held (on his back, like a baby), and snuggled. He chose his person -- my oldest daughter of course (but I was a close second) -- and he began sleeping with her on her pillow in her bed. When she moved away 8 years later he settled for me, and slept on my feet at the foot of our bed.
When he was 3, my best friend, who also happened to live next door, had a baby. As she reached toddlerhood she treated Buddy like a stuffed animal, and sometimes not too gently, and at first I was afraid he would try to scratch or bite her. But he took it like a champ, and never so much as hissed or extended a paw. Two years later our youngest daughter was born and once again, he was so gentle and loving and tolerant. He was well-known in our neighborhood as he made the rounds getting head scratches and attention (and sometimes, extra food when he could charm it out of certain neighbors).
Although Buddy quickly came domesticated and grew to love humans, he never lost that feral kitty instinct. As much as we wanted to have him be an indoor kitty, he was insistent on going outside until we finally gave in. And he was a determined and excellent hunter and kept his neighborhood territory free of just about any wild critter who was smaller than he was. He was such a marshmallow with humans ("love me, pet me, pay attention to me!") but he wasn't at all nice to other animals, so after Tootsie died soon after we got Buddy, he became an only kitty.
Buddy was very vocal and he had a loud insistent MEOW when he wanted to communicate. In the last 10 years or so of his life, he was so attached to us that if we left on a vacation or holiday, when we returned he would follow us around the house for a week, alternately scolding us and rejoicing because we were back. He was a beautiful cat, with his "Groucho Marx" moustache and his white feet and chest, and he knew it. He was rather vain and loved his collar with its red heart ID tag. He loved being brushed and would lie there relishing every minute, and then would preen as if to say, "Look at me! Aren't I gorgeous?!"
He had many nicknames -- Buddy-Boy, Budders, BootyBoy, WeenieButt-ButtKitty, just to name a few. He loved when I would say, "Who's the Best Kitty EVER?... BUDDY is!!!" and when my sister would pet him and say in baby-talk, "Buddy, Oh My Goodness!!!"
He really was the best kitty ever and I miss him so much. Thank you all again for your kind condolences.
Very touching and please take to heart that you are not alone...
Buddy definitely had lots of personality. Here is his story:
In 1997, my parents were living temporarily in a small house on the outskirts of a suburb while their house was being renovated. Buddy was maybe 3 months old and feral. My mom, who has had a soft spot for animals (but especially Snowshoe cats, we had them before we even knew they were a recognized breed. We called them "reverse siamese.") began feeding Buddy whenever she saw him hanging around. This began his lifelong love with canned tuna, among other human foods that he got very rarely as special treats (cheetos--the crunchy kind only, tiny bites of Arby's potato cakes, chicken, and the aforementioned tuna).
Soon, it became time for my parents to move back into their home. Two days before moving day my mom called me on the phone, sobbing hysterically (and she usually wasn't one for hysterics)...."I just can't leave Buddy... He's going to die... you have to come and get him!!..." I already had a cat at the time, Tootsie, and didn't really want another one. But my mom wore me down, and we grabbed the cat carrier and went to get Buddy.
My oldest daughter, who was 10 at the time, was the only one able to get close enough to Buddy to catch him, and it took time, but eventually she caught him and we put him in the carrier and took him home. We got him home and opened the carrier and he ran under the couch and hid. I sat on the floor very quietly many times over the course of the next few days and slowly, he crept closer and closer, until I could touch him, then pet him a little, then pick him up, then hold him for a minute, then hold him longer, until one day about a week after we brought him home, he would come out and jump into my lap to be held and snuggled. He soon began to love being pet, held (on his back, like a baby), and snuggled. He chose his person -- my oldest daughter of course (but I was a close second) -- and he began sleeping with her on her pillow in her bed. When she moved away 8 years later he settled for me, and slept on my feet at the foot of our bed.
When he was 3, my best friend, who also happened to live next door, had a baby. As she reached toddlerhood she treated Buddy like a stuffed animal, and sometimes not too gently, and at first I was afraid he would try to scratch or bite her. But he took it like a champ, and never so much as hissed or extended a paw. Two years later our youngest daughter was born and once again, he was so gentle and loving and tolerant. He was well-known in our neighborhood as he made the rounds getting head scratches and attention (and sometimes, extra food when he could charm it out of certain neighbors).
Although Buddy quickly came domesticated and grew to love humans, he never lost that feral kitty instinct. As much as we wanted to have him be an indoor kitty, he was insistent on going outside until we finally gave in. And he was a determined and excellent hunter and kept his neighborhood territory free of just about any wild critter who was smaller than he was. He was such a marshmallow with humans ("love me, pet me, pay attention to me!") but he wasn't at all nice to other animals, so after Tootsie died soon after we got Buddy, he became an only kitty.
Buddy was very vocal and he had a loud insistent MEOW when he wanted to communicate. In the last 10 years or so of his life, he was so attached to us that if we left on a vacation or holiday, when we returned he would follow us around the house for a week, alternately scolding us and rejoicing because we were back. He was a beautiful cat, with his "Groucho Marx" moustache and his white feet and chest, and he knew it. He was rather vain and loved his collar with its red heart ID tag. He loved being brushed and would lie there relishing every minute, and then would preen as if to say, "Look at me! Aren't I gorgeous?!"
He had many nicknames -- Buddy-Boy, Budders, BootyBoy, WeenieButt-ButtKitty, just to name a few. He loved when I would say, "Who's the Best Kitty EVER?... BUDDY is!!!" and when my sister would pet him and say in baby-talk, "Buddy, Oh My Goodness!!!"
He really was the best kitty ever and I miss him so much. Thank you all again for your kind condolences.
Very touching and please take to heart that you are not alone...Believe me and it hurts me to say this, but losing pets over the years has hurt me more than when people have died..
So sorry for your loss! Buddy looks like a little sweetheart! It was great he lived such a long and beautiful life with you.
I have lost so many beautiful kitties over the years, and sadly am about to lose another maybe even tomorrow. I have three cats who are brothers with incurable stomatitis (mouth inflammation) and one of them has developed a mass in his abdomen. He has become very bloated, he smells bad and has gone downhill quickly. I will probably have to say goodbye in the next day or two. I never get over losing one of my special friends. The last one I lost was about three years ago, and I am still not over him.
We always feel bad and like we could have done more, but really we have to remember we gave them many years of love and joy they might not have had if it had not been for us taking them into our homes.
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