One day, about 13 years ago, an acquaintance told me she was moving. She was buying a house in another state. Not renting. Not moving into a small apartment. Buying a house in another state.
Why is this important? Because she was not taking her cat. Her cat! The only people this cat had ever known were going to simply dump her off at the shelter on their way out of town.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?
I was not about to let that happen.
I told this person, who I had now lost all respect for, that I wanted her cat. I would take it. I would give it a home.
She said if I wanted to come get it, whatever, it would save her a trip to the shelter.
I went, that day, to get my new baby girl.
Only, she wasn't a baby. We never knew how old our Mitzi was, because she was already fully grown when we got her. She was a young cat, but not a baby.
And she was so scared.
She was plucked up and dumped into our chaos of three other cats and three dogs. Two which were quite large.
She lived in Mark's closet for the first couple months of her time with us. Not my closet, which would have been more appropriate. Mark's.
**Where she proceeded to sharpen her little claws on a nice leather jacket and a pair of suede work boots.**
I put a little litter box in there. And food. And water. I would go in and lie on the floor. Talking to her. Petting her.
Mark told me she would never come out if I kept making it so comfortable for her to stay in. I told him she was scared. And I continued on.
I can't remember if I eventually coaxed her out or if she finally got curious enough to venture out ... but eventually, out she came.
Slowly she acclimated to our home, our family, her siblings.
She wasn't always the easiest cat.
I had decided I was done with litter boxes. Only cats who went in and out, out and in for me. Mitzi let me know she was NOT an outside cat, and I better get her a litter box.
Done.
Mitzi was protective of her litter box and guarded it. She was quite reluctant to let anyone else use it, so now, not only did I have one litter box, I had multiple litter boxes.
Great.
She also loved to guard the water bowl. We never knew why. She would sit behind the water bowl and, while she would allow the others a drink, it was as though they needed her permission first.
Cats are weird, and Mitzi proved that.
And we loved our Mitzi.
Oh, and strong! The different vets throughout the years and our moves (where we always took her with us and never dumped her off at a shelter!) would often remark on her strength. I heard from more than one vet that Mitzi was the strongest cat they had ever dealt with. I often said if she was a person, she would be a body builder; she even had a bit of a cocky little strut when she walked. It was perfect.
And life went on.
And years passed.
And then ... one day I could not find Mitzi.
I woke up in the middle of the night with the strangest feeling. She often slept on the bed, but not always. She often slept curled up next to me, but not always. I woke up trying to remember when I had last even seen her.(?)
I searched the house over, under and upside down. No Mitzi.
What the heck?
She was ONLY an inside cat, she HAD to be here.
Only, she wasn't.
A cold front was moving in. One of the coldest in years! One of the coldest on record.
We had had friends over in the evening to sit around a fire before the front came through. Could she have got out while we or our friends were coming in and going out throughout the evening?
I mean, she COULD have ... but SHE was the one who never wanted out. We had two other cats and three dogs who happily went in and out. All day long. She could have gone out at anytime, but she had shown us for years, that SHE wanted nothing to do with the great outdoors.
...and yet, she was NOT in our house.
The front arrived. Temperatures dropped into single digits, which, for us Texans, is absolutely beyond freezing. Snow. Ice. The whole thing.
And no cat.
Mark assured me we would hear her crying out. Only... she never meowed. I used to say "her meower was broke". When she tried to meow, it would be just above a whisper and it would crack. Even if she was crying out, we would never hear her.
We looked. We searched. We put the word out.
No Mitzi.
The underside of our deck is completely enclosed. There is a door so we can get under if there is ever any reason to do so. Mark had looked for her under our deck once before to no avail, but he had a feeling. He decided to look again.
And there she was.
Her poor little nose was all crusted from it running in the freezing temperatures. She had been out in those conditions for three days before Mark found her.
He brought her in and put her on my pillow. I don't think she moved from that spot for another three days. She lay there thawing out, warming up, with her little nose healing.
A friend asked if we wanted their cat tree. Their HUGE cat, scratching post tree. Absolutely!! This thing was so big I had to take it apart to bring it home in my SUV.
Mitzi LOVED it.
She often slept with me at night and in her cat tree during the day.
The other cats didn't seem to like it much. Just Mitzi. Or maybe she let them all know it was HERS!!
Recently Mitzi started trying to sneak outside whenever we opened the door for the other cats. What the heck? She would run out. I would grab her and bring her back in.
For all these years she had proven she was an indoor cat! Did she not remember the great freeze debacle??
Finally, Mark and Mitzi convinced me to let her out.
The first time, we couldn't find her. She didn't come home. She disappeared. Went searching. A friend came over and helped me search. No Mitzi.
Ugh.
And then, she just showed up.
From then on, she became an indoor/outdoor cat. Outside most days. Inside most nights.
I don't know why. ...but we let her decide.
We even eventually moved her HUGE cat tree outside onto our deck. She would spend most of her days outside curled up on her cat tree and most nights curled up on our bed next to me.
For most of her life, Mitzi had some sort of skin condition which would flair up on occasion. Thankfully, not too often, but every once in a while. We would have to take her to the vet where she would get a steroid shot, and she would be good to go.
It was on one of these recenr flair ups when we discovered our girl was blind. I'm not sure if she literally went blind overnight, but that is how it seemed.
The vet informed us she didn't think Mitzi could see well out of one eye and not at all out of the other. We were surprised, because she had shown no signs of not being able to see, but now, seemingly overnight, she wasn't able to find her way around. A home she had lived in for years, and she could not find her way around. She was constantly walking into walls and cabinets.
This was her home, so we thought, even blind, she should be able to manage it, but she never did. Instead her world became smaller and smaller.
Initially I would walk in front of her clapping a route. Trying to teach her to follow my claps. My lame attempt, because within a few days, it now appeared she was no longer hearing. First her sight and now her hearing?
As I mentioned her world was becoming smaller and smaller. She would no longer go into other parts of the house. She would go from the kitchen (her water bowl!!) to the bed, and from the bed to her water bowl. And that was all.
She still LOVED being outside. I would take her out and place her on the grass. She would venture around more outside in the grass than she did inside. Maybe fewer obstacles? I don't know. I do know she loved our evenings outside. She would sit with the breeze gently blowing on her face.
Then her world got even smaller.
She would not leave her water bowl.
I would place her on the bed. She would go back to her water bowl.
I would lie on the bed with her. She would go back to her water bowl.
I hated it, but that spot in the house was her spot. It was her comfort. So I folded up more towels and placed them around hoping to make her spot a bit bigger and a bit more comfortable.
One day she just wasn't herself. She didn't eat that morning. I was worried, so we made an appointment for her, and Mark took her to the vet. I wish I could remember better, but everything about that appointment was "normal". There was nothing abnormal or "worrisome" that the vet could find, and she even did an ultrasound on Mitzi. Keep an eye on her, but everything appears to be good.
A few short days later, Mitzi was not good.
Back to the vet.
After Georgia, I promised myself I would not try any heroic efforts with any of my animals. Let them go... but it is SO HARD to know WHEN to let them go. Obviously, we don't want our animals to suffer. Absolutely not. At the same time, I don't want to put an animal down, if it is not ready.
I prayed for God to give me direction. Mitzi is his creation, and I have been given the privilege of taking care of her little life. That is a great privilege and a great responsibility.
The vet checks out Mitzi, and, again, nothing seemingly wrong. This time we even do blood work. All her bloodwork comes back fine. The check up is normal. The ultrasound is normal. The bloodwork is all normal.
The vet suggests an antibiotic, something to boost her appetite, a B-12 shot and some fluids.
OK. That all sounds promising.
This was last Wednesday, September 10th. So the entire time we are at the vet, I am scrolling social media as the world learns of the senseless assassination of Charlie Kirk.
Not a good day.
I am not in a good place.
Thursday morning, my wonderful husband tells me to stay home with Mitzi. He will go work for me.
Thank you.
My poor Mitzi is not any better. She is worse.
I call the vet.
"Can you come in at 3:45?"
Absolutely!!
I sit next to Mitzi.
I pet her.
And for the first time ever, as I pet her, she lets out a small growl.
She is NOT good.
I watch the clock.
I watch Mitzi.
I watch the clock.
I watch Mitzi.
She is dying.
All I can think is that she is dying. She is suffering and she needs help.
I cannot let her suffer any longer, and 3:45 is still too far away.
(Poor Dolce, because at this point, I grab her and throw her outside.)
I grab my cat carrier. I place my Mitzi in the carrier. I rush to the vet as fast as I can.
Only ...
She dies on the way.
I get to the vet, and I rush inside ... but I know.
I know my Mitzi is gone.
That she died on the drive.
In a cat carrier.
I felt (feel) so guilty.
I should have just stayed home.
I should have just sat there petting her.
Letting her go in peace.
I just didn't know she was going to go that fast; I could not let her suffer.
In the end, I didn't need to "put her down".
In the end, she just went.
I miss her.
Every time there's not a cat snuggled up next to me.
Every time I see her water bowl.
Every time we only have to feed two cats.
Every time I see the green grass she loved so much.
Every time.
