Miss Porque
She was sweet, loving, always purring and wanted to be petted. Quite the contrast to the evil genius that is Stinky who fights snakes and iguanas and nags me via those record-able pet buttons to feed him treats. Not sweet Porkie, even if she developed the bad habit of thinking anything we were eating was hers too. Every time I laid down she climbed up on me purring. Every time I sat in my rocker to watch tv she climbed in my lap. In fact everyone who visited us loved her because of her sweet gentle nature. Only Stinky could not stand her, but as she developed into a shaky little old lady she started to run Stinky away from his wet food and gobble it down.
I knew she was a senior cat. Not the only time I've had one. When she got very skinny out of the blue a few months ago I realized just how old she now was, and knew it wasn't likely going to be long before she left us. That day happened yesterday. Very bitter sweet.
This week has been pretty horrible. Jim had the flu and like a typical man started thinking he was dying. At the same time I was having a big bout of low blood pressure. I've been having blood pressure issues for many years. But since giving up all caffeine save for a solo cup of coffee daily my blood pressure has tanked pretty low, like it used to be. I have struggled with low blood pressure until I reached my late 50s. I have been on blood pressure drugs for years. Turns out I am caffeine sensitive and had no idea. So here I am, getting spots before my eyes every time I stand up trying to play step and fetch it for the big case of man-fluenza in the bed. Then Porque shows up on Tuesday afternoon.
She shambled and stumbled over to me, meowing out loudly out her worry and distress. She could not walk properly. I saw pretty quickly that just like my little old man Lil Bit years ago that Porkie had experienced a stroke, and she was giving the cat version of "Help, help, Mom I cannot WALK!" There wasn't much I could do for her, save pick her up, hold her, pet her and talk to her about her aging. I put her on my bedside throw rug, one of her favorite napping spots, and went to wake the husband up so we could discuss getting Pork to the local vet this very afternoon.
The vet is a sore spot with me. My original vet, a very nice lady from Spain I adopted Stinky from, had closed up shop and gone back to Spain. I switched to another nearby vet, who got embroiled in some situation where she was stripped of her license by the CR licensing board. Visited the vet here that everyone raves about. Liked him quite a bit. I didn't like Stinky becoming stiff with fear and fright peeing all over me because the place was grooming dogs and Stinky is terrified of dogs. Another lady charged USA prices, so it was a mere one visit. There are a couple other local vets, one being a large animal vet who is rarely in the office, and still another botched a diagnosis for a friend who raises exotic cats for a living.
But when I went back into the bedroom to get Miss Pork she was nowhere to be seen. We searched the house, we searched the grounds and no Pork at all. I was worried, but figured it might be like LiL Bit. He'd have a stroke, not be able to walk for twenty minutes or so until his brain wired around the troubled spot. Here's the thing about cats, they have marvelous neuro plasticity that you or I do not possess. So while I was worried I also thought that there was a good chance she'd turn up later walking just fine, and I'd get her in to one of the local vets offices to check everything tomorrow. Didn't quite work out that way!
The next day as I was coming from my secret reading nook deck Porkypie came shambling up, not improved and very distressed. She couldn't eat or drink, couldn't walk. I grabbed a beach towel, wrapped her up before gently placing her in a laundry basket for a trip to the vet with the dog grooming. They saw us on a quick emergency visit. Turns out that her temperature was very low and her heart was beating so slowly. She was very old and didn't have a chance of recovery. They so kindly let us say our goodbyes before they started with the two part shots. When I saw that the shot that was an anesthetic completely calmed her down by removing her pain I knew this was truly the right choice for her. Since the day before every time I've seen her she was panicking about not being able to walk. She was suffering.
Sometimes being a good pet parent meant calling the game once they were suffering, no matter how much it hurts to make that decision.
Afterward we brought her home, burying her in our backyard nearby my reading deck. Porkie is nearby where I like to sit in the afternoons and read. I already miss her. She taught me a lot about acceptance and the power of love. I'll never forget her.
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