These days are such dark days. I really did not feel like writing. Everything feels so raw. But I think it would help a bit and it would also document the days we are going through now.
Tigerlily, who walked into our lives two years ago, has left us as suddenly as she came. Just like on that bright sunny day when she strolled across the street and lay down at my feet, allowing me to stroke and pet her, she lay down on a cushion in my living room, her life slowly ebbing away with every inaudible gasp.
She had been wasting away for months. Just before Chinese New Year we brought her to the vet because her fur was falling off and she was off her food. The vet thought it was hormonal and prescribed some hormones plus antibiotics just in case. Nothing worked and Tiger just continued her decline.
In her last weeks and months, she did not go out as often, preferring to hang around at home. Her favourite place to be was on the seat on our porch, watching the world go by in our garden and beyond our gates. Or she would be perched on our glass table content to snooze in the sun. Already a quiet cat, I guess she became quieter.
She was so off her food that we finally decided to bring her back to the vet on Saturday. Immediately she was hospitalised, put on a drip and forcefed, blood samples taken. We were taken aback at how ill she was because apart from her weight loss and lack of appetite, it never seemed that serious.
Things went downhill very quickly from then. We saw her in hospital, making it a point to visit her about twice a day. She could recognise KH and and I, trying a tiny meow when we greeted her. But on Monday, I got the call in the office. It was not working out and she was sliding fast. The bloodwork showed last-stage kidney failure and they thought she would not last out the night. The vet said it was likely the kidneys were not developed and could not support an adult cat - common in cats and dogs. It was nothing she caught or ate, nothing we could have done. It was congenital. The words just washed right over me.
KH and I took urgent leave, pulled the kids out of school and brought Tiger home for the last time.
We took turns sitting by her just to stroke her, talk to her and tell her it was okay, not to be scared, she was going to a better place where she could chase all the birds she wanted and what a pretty dance they would give her. She wagged her tail feebly a couple of times as we stroked her and talked.
Yes we cried. Cait, who was so attached to her, Owain and I. It was hard to say goodbye.
By 3.35pm. I was with her when she tried to get off the cushion. She stood for the last time in her life and took three shaky steps before collapsing, splayed out on the floor. KH scrambled over and we both held her. She spasmed twice and then it was over.
We called the pet cremation service. The kids were adamant that they did not want her ashes scattered in the sea with unknown other animals. So it would be a private cremation and she would be returned to us in an urn.
Isaac did not make it back in time to see her and to talk to her. He was in school and could not access the messages I left him on his phone. By the time he got to our gate and saw Owain in tears, he knew. And my big son, unabashedly wept.
She's home today, we received her in a tiny wooden box. And now she sits on our altar, flanked by the Holy Family and the Divine Mercy, her worn collar sitting atop the urn. She feels lighter than we expect. For all intents and purposes, Tigerlily is now officially an indoor cat. But I think once in a while, I will take her out into the garden and let her sit a while. Am I mad? Silly perhaps?
But then, she did so love the big earthen jar with the tempting guppies always taunting her as she stared in frustration at not being able to swipe one - I would always call out to her before she could. She also loved the lizards and the birds. They did not love her but she would enjoy sitting there eyeing them and trying to pounce.
In her last days, tired as she was, she managed to kill a sparrow and then tried to bury the carcass in her kitty litter!
She was an outdoor cat all the way.
We would never know why she chose us as her family. I'm sure there was a reason.
But we loved her till the end and for two years, we gave her a good home, food, shelter, love and lots of cuddles. I'm so glad we were with her till the end. I think she was glad to be home too - she must have smelt it in the air and in the light. I think for anyone, a beloved animal or human member of the family, this is what we can and should humanely do - bring her home to live out her last moments with the people she loved around her.
I never knew that losing a pet could hurt this much. And I always thought that cats, being less needy, less affectionate than dogs, would make far less of an imprint in our lives. But in two years, Tiger has left an imprint that would be difficult to erase.
Mornings will never be the same again without her usual greeting and then curling round our legs for a morning cuddle and stroking session. And she'd do this to all of us every morning. No more would she perch at the top of our gatepost surveying the neighbours, the cars, the children, like the empress of her domain, regal and elegant, complete with kohl-rimmed eyes. My bathroom window can now be left unlocked - no more fear that Tigerlily would escape our house at night. We tried to keep her in at night after that terrible time when she was caught in a trap at our neighbour's house. But we later realised that she had learned to unlatch the window so it was a nightly ritual that KH would call out "Is the cat in the house?" and if she was, we would close all windows and doors - including the bathroom door AND window. No more of that too now.
I will miss her sauntering into the house, leaving a warm patch on our beds when she naps for the afternoon. I will miss her eager pattering when she keeps to our heels as we hurry to fill her bowl with food. I will miss her elegant profile as she sits on the cushioned seat on our porch. I will miss calling her home at night - and she would come when I called. Only Cait and I had that privilege initially but later, she grew to include KH in her circle of trust.
My favourite memory of her? I guess it would be the day she came into our lives, when I first realised that we were adopted, and how I chose the name Tigerlily for her.
I will miss so many things. How can she be a mere cat? How can people say "its only an animal?" She was family. IS and always will be family.
And Cait. Poor thing. She looked lost in her bed, reading just a few minutes ago. Her eyes were red-rimmed. I know how she felt - there is something missing from her life that was once filled by a soft warm furry body lying next to her every night.
I tell myself that all animals go to heaven for they are created by God and as long as we loved them, we would surely see them once more. My sister agrees. She says that when I am ready to go Up There, I'd see Tigerlily there and there would be her fur all over my bed once more, ready to exasperate me again. Looks like I have to die with the lint roller in hand!
I tell myself that St Francis, the quintessential animal-lover, will take good care of her Up There. I told her that too, as she lay dying. I believe it, but it does not make me feel better. I guess I will, over time. But right now, my life is one big empty ache that only a tiny cat can fill. Right now, I will never want to get another cat. No one can take her place and the process of losing them again one day is just too painful. Once is enough. We've put away her things but I stop short of making plans to give them away. I can't. I can't bear to.
I will end with this description of how Isaac said goodbye. He had to leave to serve mass in the evening before the animal cremation people came. He stood for a moment next to her, then he bent and stroked her once, twice. Then straightened and said to her, in his usual, bright and cheery, casual way, as he always does whenever he leaves the house, as if she was still there: "Bye Cat!"
And I guess, that is the best way to say goodbye isn't it?
Tigerlily, who walked into our lives two years ago, has left us as suddenly as she came. Just like on that bright sunny day when she strolled across the street and lay down at my feet, allowing me to stroke and pet her, she lay down on a cushion in my living room, her life slowly ebbing away with every inaudible gasp.
She had been wasting away for months. Just before Chinese New Year we brought her to the vet because her fur was falling off and she was off her food. The vet thought it was hormonal and prescribed some hormones plus antibiotics just in case. Nothing worked and Tiger just continued her decline.
In her last weeks and months, she did not go out as often, preferring to hang around at home. Her favourite place to be was on the seat on our porch, watching the world go by in our garden and beyond our gates. Or she would be perched on our glass table content to snooze in the sun. Already a quiet cat, I guess she became quieter.
She was so off her food that we finally decided to bring her back to the vet on Saturday. Immediately she was hospitalised, put on a drip and forcefed, blood samples taken. We were taken aback at how ill she was because apart from her weight loss and lack of appetite, it never seemed that serious.
Things went downhill very quickly from then. We saw her in hospital, making it a point to visit her about twice a day. She could recognise KH and and I, trying a tiny meow when we greeted her. But on Monday, I got the call in the office. It was not working out and she was sliding fast. The bloodwork showed last-stage kidney failure and they thought she would not last out the night. The vet said it was likely the kidneys were not developed and could not support an adult cat - common in cats and dogs. It was nothing she caught or ate, nothing we could have done. It was congenital. The words just washed right over me.
KH and I took urgent leave, pulled the kids out of school and brought Tiger home for the last time.
We took turns sitting by her just to stroke her, talk to her and tell her it was okay, not to be scared, she was going to a better place where she could chase all the birds she wanted and what a pretty dance they would give her. She wagged her tail feebly a couple of times as we stroked her and talked.
Yes we cried. Cait, who was so attached to her, Owain and I. It was hard to say goodbye.
By 3.35pm. I was with her when she tried to get off the cushion. She stood for the last time in her life and took three shaky steps before collapsing, splayed out on the floor. KH scrambled over and we both held her. She spasmed twice and then it was over.
We called the pet cremation service. The kids were adamant that they did not want her ashes scattered in the sea with unknown other animals. So it would be a private cremation and she would be returned to us in an urn.
Isaac did not make it back in time to see her and to talk to her. He was in school and could not access the messages I left him on his phone. By the time he got to our gate and saw Owain in tears, he knew. And my big son, unabashedly wept.
She's home today, we received her in a tiny wooden box. And now she sits on our altar, flanked by the Holy Family and the Divine Mercy, her worn collar sitting atop the urn. She feels lighter than we expect. For all intents and purposes, Tigerlily is now officially an indoor cat. But I think once in a while, I will take her out into the garden and let her sit a while. Am I mad? Silly perhaps?
But then, she did so love the big earthen jar with the tempting guppies always taunting her as she stared in frustration at not being able to swipe one - I would always call out to her before she could. She also loved the lizards and the birds. They did not love her but she would enjoy sitting there eyeing them and trying to pounce.
In her last days, tired as she was, she managed to kill a sparrow and then tried to bury the carcass in her kitty litter!
She was an outdoor cat all the way.
We would never know why she chose us as her family. I'm sure there was a reason.
But we loved her till the end and for two years, we gave her a good home, food, shelter, love and lots of cuddles. I'm so glad we were with her till the end. I think she was glad to be home too - she must have smelt it in the air and in the light. I think for anyone, a beloved animal or human member of the family, this is what we can and should humanely do - bring her home to live out her last moments with the people she loved around her.
I never knew that losing a pet could hurt this much. And I always thought that cats, being less needy, less affectionate than dogs, would make far less of an imprint in our lives. But in two years, Tiger has left an imprint that would be difficult to erase.
Mornings will never be the same again without her usual greeting and then curling round our legs for a morning cuddle and stroking session. And she'd do this to all of us every morning. No more would she perch at the top of our gatepost surveying the neighbours, the cars, the children, like the empress of her domain, regal and elegant, complete with kohl-rimmed eyes. My bathroom window can now be left unlocked - no more fear that Tigerlily would escape our house at night. We tried to keep her in at night after that terrible time when she was caught in a trap at our neighbour's house. But we later realised that she had learned to unlatch the window so it was a nightly ritual that KH would call out "Is the cat in the house?" and if she was, we would close all windows and doors - including the bathroom door AND window. No more of that too now.
I will miss her sauntering into the house, leaving a warm patch on our beds when she naps for the afternoon. I will miss her eager pattering when she keeps to our heels as we hurry to fill her bowl with food. I will miss her elegant profile as she sits on the cushioned seat on our porch. I will miss calling her home at night - and she would come when I called. Only Cait and I had that privilege initially but later, she grew to include KH in her circle of trust.
My favourite memory of her? I guess it would be the day she came into our lives, when I first realised that we were adopted, and how I chose the name Tigerlily for her.
I will miss so many things. How can she be a mere cat? How can people say "its only an animal?" She was family. IS and always will be family.
And Cait. Poor thing. She looked lost in her bed, reading just a few minutes ago. Her eyes were red-rimmed. I know how she felt - there is something missing from her life that was once filled by a soft warm furry body lying next to her every night.
I tell myself that all animals go to heaven for they are created by God and as long as we loved them, we would surely see them once more. My sister agrees. She says that when I am ready to go Up There, I'd see Tigerlily there and there would be her fur all over my bed once more, ready to exasperate me again. Looks like I have to die with the lint roller in hand!
I tell myself that St Francis, the quintessential animal-lover, will take good care of her Up There. I told her that too, as she lay dying. I believe it, but it does not make me feel better. I guess I will, over time. But right now, my life is one big empty ache that only a tiny cat can fill. Right now, I will never want to get another cat. No one can take her place and the process of losing them again one day is just too painful. Once is enough. We've put away her things but I stop short of making plans to give them away. I can't. I can't bear to.
I will end with this description of how Isaac said goodbye. He had to leave to serve mass in the evening before the animal cremation people came. He stood for a moment next to her, then he bent and stroked her once, twice. Then straightened and said to her, in his usual, bright and cheery, casual way, as he always does whenever he leaves the house, as if she was still there: "Bye Cat!"
And I guess, that is the best way to say goodbye isn't it?
