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Sex: Male Weight: 16 lbs.
|Home:Flanders, NJ ||[I have a diary!] |
"Angel Patch is purring for Samoa." [See My CatsterPlus Photo Book]
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April 30th 1992
Being held, and catnip.
He didn't play much with toys, but loved to dance with people.
Favorite Nap Spot:
On the bed, on Mom's pillow.
He liked to dance, sitting up on his haunches or on his toes, holding onto our hands.
We adopted Patch and his brother Truck from a shelter. We wanted a red tabby to replace our beloved Tigger, and Truck was perfect -- energetic, alert and friendly. His brother Patch was huddled miserably in the back of the shelter cage, trembling. But we couldn't separate them!
Truck died suddenly before he was one year old. The vet suspects cardiomyopathy. But Patch was with us for many years. He was always a "scaredy cat," jumping at the slightest noise, like a soda bottle being opened. But he was a fearless hunter and outdoorsman at the farm until he had an unfortunate encounter with a car. Fortunately he escaped with bruises, but after that he was indoors only, and was the last cat we allowed outdoors.
Patchie left us in November of 2008, age 16 1/2. He was lethargic and seemed to be having trouble breathing. At first the vet thought it was asthma, but he had a seizure on the examining table, and an Xray showed a tumor pressing on his trachea. We sadly sent Patch to rest and miss him every day. He was a "chirper," a head bumper and a face licker who used his paw to delicately turn our heads from one side to the other so he could clean us up properly.
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|November 30th 2009
||More than 3 years!
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November 3rd 2012 11:39 am
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It was four years ago when I made my journey. Mom had taken me into the vet because I was suddenly wanting to be by myself, sleeping in the hall closet next to the radiator, and she thought my breathing was a bit wheezy. The vet listened to my lungs and said they sounded clear, then left to get the X-ray room ready for me. Suddenly I started gasping for breath, and Mom stuck her head out of the exam room and yelled for help. They came running with an oxygen tank and a little tube that they held under my nose. After a while I was able to breathe again and calmed down.
The X-ray showed that the lungs were clear, but the doctor thought he saw a shadow along my esophagus -- maybe a tumor?
It was Saturday, and the vet's office was closing. He didn't think it was advisable to keep me there or to send me home. So Mom took me to a 24-hour vet hospital where someone would be monitoring me all the time. The doctor there suspected asthma and gave me steroids, which helped me. In the morning, she told Mom I could go home with asthma medication.
But when Mom arrived, the doctor came out to say that I had suffered another grand mal seizure and that she knew then that asthma was not my problem. She, too, suspected a tumor. What to do, what to do? The doctor said I could be transferred to another vet hospital for a CT scan, but I would have to be transferred under oxygen. While we were discussing all this, a technician came out to tell the doctor that I was having another seizure.
When that was under control, Mom was allowed to come in and see me. I reached out a paw to her and told her with my eyes that I did not want to see another doctor. I wanted to rest. With tears in her eyes, she told the doctor that she wanted to help me to the Bridge. The doctor nodded, and said she thought that might be the best they could do for me.
My Dad and Mom were both there with me, and I passed gently. Mom buried me in the back yard, near a pretty tree. It was a day much like today. Chilly but bright, with leaves the same color as me floating down from the trees.
She misses me still, I know, but I am healthy and safe here, and will see her again one day.
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