August 7, 2015
When debating what to write about today, I considered last week’s informative in-office Pinterest workshop (spoiler alert, Dreyer’s is Cream of the Crop) or last night’s beautiful “super blood moon” eclipse (as a follow-up to my solar eclipse post from last year). But instead, I’m writing about something far less educational and much more therapeutic. . .
The year was 1996. I was nearing my 21st birthday and my boyfriend and I had just broken up (again). My minoring-in-Women’s-Studies brain told me, “You don’t need a man; you need a cat.” So off to the Humane Society I went. I immediately fell for an adorable six-week-old tuxedo kitten with clipped whiskers and a perma-milk mustache; he came home with me that day.
Boxcar, named after my favorite Jawbreaker song, was the first animal I invited into my grown-up life. Nearly 19 years he’s been with me. That’s: one college graduation, three rented apartments, two houses, five jobs, one dog, two babies and an inordinate amounts of kitty litter and kibble.
As an indoor-only cat, Boxcar has lived his many years relatively stress-free (see exceptions above) and in excellent health. Two years ago, after a significant decrease in weight, our vet diagnosed him with early stages of kidney disease, but he lived seemingly comfortable and without incident until two weeks ago where his weight decreased again and he began having difficulties using his hind legs.
He can’t access his favorite high-level resting places on his own anymore. His appetite has decreased and he’s dehydrated. Per our vet’s recommendation, I have begun administering subcutaneous (sub-Q) fluids at home, something I didn’t know I was capable of until last Thursday.
For those of you living with animal companions, you know the joy they bring and the lengths you would go to for them. I know Boxcar won’t be here much longer, and I’m doing what I can to make his last days/weeks as comfortable as possible.
I’ll miss you so much, my sweet, sweet prince.