The Beautiful 10.30 Stray
In 2006, a young mother cat and two kittens were rescued from a field in Pennsylvania and brought to the veterinary clinic where I worked. The mother cat was feral. The two kittens were black and white and 6 months old and adorable. The clinic spayed all three, and the mother was returned to the field to live the rest of her days hunting mice but not making more kittens. The two kittens were put up for adoption.
The one with the green eyes and pink nose who was more white than black was named "10.30 Stray" in the computer system. The other kitten who was more black than white was adopted by my friend Kelly, who also worked at the clinic. The mostly white and black one was adopted by me. I named her Bella Luna, which means Beautiful Moon. Even though my coworkers groaned because Bella was a very popular name at the time, but she truly was a beautiful cat.
I took her to Portland where she settled right in with Dublin. The two of them became fast friends. You can see how close the two of them were in my blog Mirrored Cats.
Bella was my first cat. She was my first "real" pet. (I had parakeets when I was a teenager, and I loved them, but they just weren't quite the same. Although Zeus visits me in my dreams occasionally.) She was quite dignified, with perfected resting bitch face, but had a whimsical sense of play and would surprise you just when you thought she was too good for you. She was declawed, a decision I mostly regretted throughout her life, except for the times I saw her scratching on my upholstered dining chairs or my antique cherrywood carved bedposts. She only played with the white mice. She chewed on string and cords. She loved new carpets. She loved to drink water out of the tub faucet. She was unconcerned with visitors and went about her business as usual, including our friend's dog who barked right in her face through the sliding glass door. She just stared at him, unblinking, tail gently flicking in mild amusement. She slept next to my husband every night but rarely sat on our laps.
Ever since she was a kitten, I have had a strange feeling she would die when she was 10. I can't really explain why, it's just one of those things I guess. She had never been a great eater, and when she was about 6 she began very slowly losing weight. I let it go for awhile, until she started having frequent hairballs. I diagnosed her with inflammatory bowel disease in 2014. She improved greatly with treatment and then in 2015 began vomiting and losing weight again. I feared her disease had become more advanced but it turned out she was hyperthyroid.
I had her thyroid tumor irradiated and she did well again until just a few weeks ago. She had turned 11 in June. I noticed she started refusing her favorite treat, American cheese. She started vomiting daily. She always hated taking medications and so I had to improvise and find various ways to get her to take her meds. She started refusing them, too. I tried a few things at home but finally had to take her to work. After various tests, I found a tumor in her lungs and inflammation in her gut that was likely metastatic lymphoma. She declined quickly and it became time to let her go. One of my amazing technicians drove several hours to euthanize Bella at home since she became extremely stressed in the car.
The drive was surreal. I felt like I was driving to my own death. I turned on my street and didn't even recognize it. As if in a dream I drove toward my drive, turned in, and parked. I had to reassure myself that this was indeed my little house on my quiet street with my little kitty inside.
She passed peacefully in my arms without struggle as I cried into the black fur on the back of her neck. I knew it was time, but I still had a horrible rise of a feeling that maybe it was too soon. I asked my technician, and she reassured me as I have reassured hundreds of others, that indeed yes, it was just the right time. Those words helped me beyond measure in that moment.
The next day I euthanized a cat with a very similar story, and the owner recited Psalm 23 over her. I will repeat it here for my beautiful Bella, rest in peace. And go find Fat Man. <3
The one with the green eyes and pink nose who was more white than black was named "10.30 Stray" in the computer system. The other kitten who was more black than white was adopted by my friend Kelly, who also worked at the clinic. The mostly white and black one was adopted by me. I named her Bella Luna, which means Beautiful Moon. Even though my coworkers groaned because Bella was a very popular name at the time, but she truly was a beautiful cat.
I took her to Portland where she settled right in with Dublin. The two of them became fast friends. You can see how close the two of them were in my blog Mirrored Cats.
Bella was my first cat. She was my first "real" pet. (I had parakeets when I was a teenager, and I loved them, but they just weren't quite the same. Although Zeus visits me in my dreams occasionally.) She was quite dignified, with perfected resting bitch face, but had a whimsical sense of play and would surprise you just when you thought she was too good for you. She was declawed, a decision I mostly regretted throughout her life, except for the times I saw her scratching on my upholstered dining chairs or my antique cherrywood carved bedposts. She only played with the white mice. She chewed on string and cords. She loved new carpets. She loved to drink water out of the tub faucet. She was unconcerned with visitors and went about her business as usual, including our friend's dog who barked right in her face through the sliding glass door. She just stared at him, unblinking, tail gently flicking in mild amusement. She slept next to my husband every night but rarely sat on our laps.
Ever since she was a kitten, I have had a strange feeling she would die when she was 10. I can't really explain why, it's just one of those things I guess. She had never been a great eater, and when she was about 6 she began very slowly losing weight. I let it go for awhile, until she started having frequent hairballs. I diagnosed her with inflammatory bowel disease in 2014. She improved greatly with treatment and then in 2015 began vomiting and losing weight again. I feared her disease had become more advanced but it turned out she was hyperthyroid.
I had her thyroid tumor irradiated and she did well again until just a few weeks ago. She had turned 11 in June. I noticed she started refusing her favorite treat, American cheese. She started vomiting daily. She always hated taking medications and so I had to improvise and find various ways to get her to take her meds. She started refusing them, too. I tried a few things at home but finally had to take her to work. After various tests, I found a tumor in her lungs and inflammation in her gut that was likely metastatic lymphoma. She declined quickly and it became time to let her go. One of my amazing technicians drove several hours to euthanize Bella at home since she became extremely stressed in the car.
The drive was surreal. I felt like I was driving to my own death. I turned on my street and didn't even recognize it. As if in a dream I drove toward my drive, turned in, and parked. I had to reassure myself that this was indeed my little house on my quiet street with my little kitty inside.
She passed peacefully in my arms without struggle as I cried into the black fur on the back of her neck. I knew it was time, but I still had a horrible rise of a feeling that maybe it was too soon. I asked my technician, and she reassured me as I have reassured hundreds of others, that indeed yes, it was just the right time. Those words helped me beyond measure in that moment.
The next day I euthanized a cat with a very similar story, and the owner recited Psalm 23 over her. I will repeat it here for my beautiful Bella, rest in peace. And go find Fat Man. <3
A Psalm of David.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,[c]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
A moving memory and beautiful pictures of Bella. Mom
ReplyDelete