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Mischa - In Loving Memory

Saying Good-bye to Mischa - April 14, 2007

Today has been a terrible day. We had to have Mischa, our oldest cat, put to sleep this morning.

Mischa appeared outside my mom's house in late July of 1999. I was preparing to move to Georgia for grad school, and had actually just adopted two tiny kittens, brothers Zach and Trevor, to take with me. One afternoon right before the move, my friend and then-boyfriend Steve and I had just returned to my house from somewhere or other. When we got out of my car, Steve noticed a grey tabby cat hanging around in the driveway.

"Hey there," he said, and the cat came over to him, wanting pets. "Wow, look at this guy, Cam," Steve said. "He's gorgeous."

And he was. He had beautiful silver and blue-grey stripes. He was also very friendly. In fact, when we went inside, he followed us right through the door like he lived there.

Mischa was obviously used to people, but his fur was a little dirty. It looked like maybe he'd been on his own for a couple of weeks or so, and we theorized that he'd gotten lost from his family. He was incredibly sweet-natured, and we couldn't imagine anyone dumping him, although it was true we'd never noticed him around the neighborhood before.

So I adopted Mischa, and took him with me when I moved to Athens in August. He's been a constant friend and companion ever since, and he's been with me through some rough times.

Everyone loved Mischa. He was a wonderful cat. He took care of the two kittens I'd adopted like he was their mother. He's been that way -- friendly, accepting, loving -- with all the cats we've adopted over the years, and I largely credit him with the peaceful nature of our little clan. Our cats are happy, they don't fight often, and are pretty much all good friends. I think a lot of that has to do with Mischa's good influence.

Mischa has always been skinny, but over the past year or so, he seemed to be losing weight a bit at a time. At first, it was easy to shrug off, because as I said, he was always really skinny. When his behavior started to change around the first of the year -- he wasn't as clingy and lovey as he'd always been, and seemed lethargic -- we decided to take him to the vet.

The vet diagnosed Mischa with FIV, which is basically a feline version of HIV. He also said that Mischa had developed a thyroid condition, which could account for the lethargy and weight loss. He prescribed some medication to control the thyroid problem, and gave us vitamins to mix in with Mischa's food to help him build up strength and weight. He cautioned that he was a little concerned about Mischa's kidneys, but based on the various blood tests they'd done, he seemed okay.

Mischa improved quickly. He never really put more weight on, but he got back to his normal, friendly, cuddly ways, and was alert and normal. For the past couple of months, he's been his old self, although we've been concerned that he didn't put weight back on.

Then a couple days ago, we noticed he was hopping into our laps less, and seemed lethargic again. Yesterday, he cried periodically throughout the day, which was unusual. Mischa usually only meowed when he was begging for a treat. Still, he ate his canned food and vitamins when I fed them to him. This morning, he wouldn't eat his food, and when we gave him his thyroid medicine, we noticed some gunk around his teeth.

"Oh no," we said. "He must have a gum infection, or an impacted tooth or something. That must be why he doesn't feel like eating." So we threw our clothes on and rushed to the vet's office, expecting to have to give him some antibiotics for a week or so, or maybe even let the vet remove some of his teeth.

But it wasn't his teeth. The vet ran a couple more blood tests, and determined that Mischa was in renal failure. His kidneys were just giving out, and there really wasn't anything that could be done. He recommended that we put him to sleep.

There really wasn't any question. As horrible as it was to have to to sign that form, we couldn't let Mischa suffer just to save our feelings. And he was obviously suffering.

We buried him this afternoon in the back yard, under the walnut tree, with some of all the cats' fur, the pullover that Ben wore to the vet today, an Emily Strange cat t-shirt of mine, one of the cats' jingly balls, one of Koto's tennis balls, and some catnip.

Good-bye, old friend. We love you so much. We will miss you, but we'll see you again one day.

1998 - 2007