Todd cat

"Only know you've been high when you're feeling low

Only hate the road when you’re missin' home

Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go"

Today we said goodbye to our 18 year old cat Todd. His health and weight had gone downhill significantly in recent months so this morning I took him on the one-way trip to the vet clinic.

Todd joined our family back in Labor Day weekend, September 2001. I had just moved to Dallas and started law school. My "family" at that point consisted of myself and my other cat Tim, whom I had adopted in college. I thought Tim would benefit from a playmate so I went to the SPCA shelter downtown to look for cat to adopt. 

There were a lot of cute kittens but I was looking for an older cat. I noticed a big gray 6 year old tabby with beautiful green eyes and a handsome white face who quietly but assertively commandeered his kennel and padded confidently to the food bowl as the other cats deferred. He seemed cuddly and sweet and the notes left by his previous owner painted a picture of a gentle, easygoing cat whose eviction from his prior home had come due to incompatibility with a new puppy. I paid his adoption fee and took him home.

Tim and Todd didn't immediately hit it off and seemed a little wary of each other but soon they were friends, wrestling, playing, and lounging together. Being cats, they were content to keep to themselves pretty often but got along pretty well.

His encounters with my parents' lab Penny, however, were less cordial. Penny was thrilled to meet him and expressed her enthusiasm by bounding her big yellow lab self over to him, barking excitedly, and licking her new friend. Todd expressed his displeasure by hissing, clawing, and snapping at her. Call it a mixed grade on "playing well with other animals."

He was extremely cuddly and affectionate with me and got along with Kevin but generally made himself scarce when company was around. He was an introverted kitty and never happier than when he had my undivided attention. Cats are said to be aloof, and people say if you adopt an older animal they won't bond to you like a puppy or kitten would. Well, this old cat was the most affectionate pet I've had in 35 years. He loved to sleep next to my bed (after Kevin and I got married and he was banished from sleeping in the bed itself) and I'd almost trip over him when I woke up because he wanted to greet me immediately. He waited for me to get out of the shower so he could lie on my feet while I dried my hair and put on my makeup. 

Sometimes his attentiveness crossed over to annoying and I'm convinced he can't have gotten underfoot that often on accident. I even learned to walk cautiously in the dark so as not to trip over or step on him. And I don't think I own a pair of jeans that doesn't have at least one snag in them from his claws. But his flaws were outweighed by his sweetness and it took little to make him purr and nuzzle me with his head (alas, to my chagrin, even if I was wearing black slacks, which he'd cover with fur as he'd brush past).

Here he is at his healthy (well, chubby) normal weight:

I was curious how the cats would handle the change when the kids came along. To my surpise my fiercely devoted introvert actually seemed surprisingly eager to play with the kids. He and Rebecca especially enjoyed each other's company and until a few weeks ago he seemed to find his way to where she was playing quite a lot. Babies and preschoolers aren't always gentle but Todd was pretty patient with them. I never saw him bite or scratch the kids even when his tail or fur got pulled.

Rebecca loved to find him hiding in my closet lately:

Daniel kissing him goodbye this morning:

I'm sure it must have started sooner but I didn't really realize Todd was declining until after Christmas. That's what having 2 kids under 4 to chase around will do. He had enjoyed napping under the (real) tree and had the sap-covered fur to prove it. I tried to brush the tangles out but that seemed to hurt him so I gave him a bath instead. It didn't help and since the tangled knots didn't seem to bother him I just left them as they were. He used to be very particular about his grooming and took it upon himself to keep not only his own coat impeccable but Tim's as well.

When he was in the tub I realized how thin he had gotten. Gone were the rolls of fat that used to hide his ribs. He felt half his weight. And while he used to mightily protest his baths this time he was too weak to make more than half-hearted effort to climb out. I knew he wasn't eating as much as usual but with 2 cats it's impossible to know who's eating and who's not without watching the bowls all day.

Last month I took him to the vet for an evaluation and learned he had dropped from his regular 16 pounds to 7lb 2oz, Rebecca's newborn weight. At that visit there was no obvious need to take immediate action but I left knowing that one way or another, Todd's last day was drawing nearer.

Over the past weeks he seemed to get thinner and more withdrawn. I realize thinking back that he must have stayed upstairs on the carpet because it was warmer for him than the cold wooden floors, though he was always happy when I'd turn on the fireplace for him. 

Despite his obvious decline it wasn't an easy decision. I worried that I might pull the trigger too early and rob him of some good days or weeks or worse, that I might delay too long and cause him unnecessary suffering. He wasn't eating much, drank lots of water perhaps as a sign of kidney issues, was having toileting issues, and spent most of his time huddled in my closet or on the stairs. Every morning I woke up expecting and frankly hoping to find he had passed peacefully during the night to relieve me of the burden of having to make that decision. This week I decided it was better to act a little too early than to risk being too late and made the call.

Last night I held him in my lap for hours and listened to him purr happily. I wondered, not for the first time, if I was doing the right thing. Then this morning, Kevin and the kids told him goodbye and I wrapped him in a towel and cuddled him in my lap for the short drive to the vet's. I had decided that for this trip we would forgo the cat carrier, which always made him anxious. The song on the radio, fittingly, was Let Her Go.

I asked the vet tech to weigh Todd before we went back to the procedure room. If he had maintained his weight or even stayed close I'd have seriously considered canceling. But he was down to 6lb 4oz, a significant loss in just 4 weeks. I knew waiting any longer meant running the risk of a painful, not peaceful end and I owed my faithful old friend better than that.

We went back to the room and waited for the vet to gather the needed equipment. After 12+ years my remaining time with Todd was now measured not in days or even hours, but minutes. Seconds.

I thought back to some of our good times together. When he used to cuddle on my lap while I'd study, or sleep on my bed. When he and Tim kept me company during early labor with Daniel. His terrible fight skills with Tim and how slowly and deliberately he would move his open mouth at Tim as if to say "I.am.going.to.bite.you!" Only Tim's equally poor fight skills kept their scrimmages remotely competitive. 

Then a knock on the door, the vet came in, and our time was up. The actual procedure itself was fast and as easy and peaceful as falling asleep. I wrapped him in a towel and held him. It took less than a minute.

The vet left and gave me some time to say goodbye to Todd. I took his collar, clipped some fur to save, and went back home to what is now a 1-cat household. I've got a scratch on my wrist and hand from when I had picked him up that morning to carry him to the car. The last scratches I'll ever have from my Todd cat.

We'll miss our sweet old "Todders" but I'm glad I could give him the peaceful end he deserved. I had been talking to Daniel in preparation for a few weeks about how Todd was very sick and soon he was going to go to live at Jesus' house. As he says "we're a little bit sad and a little bit happy." 

I feel sad that Rebecca won't have any memories of him, and Daniel might not either, but both kids' first word was "cat." He's a part of their early years. And a big part of my adult life to this point. He moved with me 4 times and learned to share me with Kevin and two young kids and through it all he was always my buddy, just happy to be near me.

Farewell old friend. We love you and will miss you.