# Take good care of my baby...



## Duchess (Dec 26, 2007)

It's about 9:30 AM where I am. One of my girls, Pooh, is being put to sleep at 5:20 this afternoon.

I feel like I can't handle this. I've been crying for 2 days (since I made the appointment). I've been spending lots of time with her, taking lots of pictures, giving her lots of treats, letting her have anything she wants and treating her to expensive food.

This is so hard. All I can think is "This is the last time..." This is the last time she'll greet me at the door when I come home from work. This is the last time she'll sleep on my legs at night. This is the last time she'll enjoy breakfast with her sister. This is the last time I'll whistle and have her come running to sit on my lap. This is the last time she'll lay on my flip flop. This is the last time she'll guard her SuperScratcher from her sister.

I just can't stop crying.


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## Feisty Kitten (Jun 18, 2010)

I'm so sorry you're having to go through this. Just remember all the lovely memories you have with her. 

I really hope you'll be ok. I know how tough a time it is, unfortunately I've been through it before too. Try to be strong for her, she needs you right now. You've given her the best possible life she could've asked for because she was with you. xxxx


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## Darkcat (May 27, 2010)

I'm so sorry. Saying goodbye is always hard. atback


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## Kobster (Feb 1, 2007)

I'm so sorry honey. I know how you feel, I just lost one of mine a couple of weeks ago. I still cry every day. Something will remind me and then I'm in tears again. Time will soothe the pain. Celebrate her life and her memory. I've found making a little memorial or tribute with photos and mementos/memories is helpful in processing through the loss. If you need to talk, you can PM me! HUGS!


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## Duchess (Dec 26, 2007)

Thank you, guys. I know the internet can be impersonal and I know I don't know you all very well, but what I know is that you all feel the same way about your babies as I do about mine and I appreciate hearing from you.

Yesterday afternoon, my little girl, Pooh, was put to sleep.

Pooh originally belonged to my parents. My mother chose her sister, Tigger, because she wanted an orange striped cat. She was told that her sister, Pooh, was unadoptable. She'd failed all of the socialization tests, so they were going to put her down. My mother told them no way; she'd take them both.

So she took them. Pooh was not grateful. In fact, she hated my mother. She'd get up on my mother's dresser in the morning, wait for her to reach for something she needed and Pooh would bite her. Deliberately.

She'd also prance by the two dogs that my parents had, just DARING them to chase her, and, when they would, she'd lead them around for awhile and then jump up somewhere high just to look down and taunt them.

Because they had dogs, my parents had a doggie door which Pooh would regularly use to head outside and check things out. When we moved to Ohio, it meant that she could now start catching and bringing in all of the cute, furry critters that inhabit Ohio (but are absent in Nevada).

After my birthday one year, we came home to about 5 adorable, tiny, baby bunnies (alive and unharmed... we have no idea how she did that...) in the middle of the living room. After chasing baby bunnies around the house for awhile, my parents got angry and started locking her in the back half of the house. She hated being by herself back there.

When I moved out, I took both kitties with me (Tigger had bonded with me and I figured Pooh could have the run of the apartment if I brought her, too).

At some time during the years that I had her, Pooh decided I was o.k. She would greet me at the door when I came home from work, come when I whistled for her (at which point she'd climb in my lap and start purring while sucking on my shirt... apparently common behavior for a cat that was removed from its mother too soon), and she started sleeping on my legs every night.

Pooh was my baby. She never really cared for anyone in this world besides my step-father and me. She was mean and rotten and she was my little girl and I loved her, more than she deserved. I was lucky to have her in my life and my life was better because she was in it.

R.I.P Miss Pooh Kitty. I love you.










Rick, take good care of my baby.


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## Miso (Dec 5, 2009)

I'm so sorry for your loss atback


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## Leazie (Apr 14, 2007)

I am so sorry that you lost your Miss Pooh. It sounds like your bond was so, so special.


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## razzle (May 20, 2010)

I'm soooooo sorry for your lose. She loved you. atback What happened to her? How old was she?

Kathy


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## Duchess (Dec 26, 2007)

Thank you.

She was approx. 12-years-old (we aren't positive; they were pound kitties, but when we got them 10 years ago, we were told they thought they were about 2).

She had some bladder stones that were causing her some discomfort and were making her much more aggressive than normal towards everyone, including her sister, Tigger. She also was using the litterbox very, very often, but only a little at a time and she seemed uncomfortable doing it.

We tried a shot of antibiotics and we also changed her food (apparently the type of stones she had are sometimes able to be broken up and prevented by a special diet). She didn't care for the food very much, but she did eat it, so I figured that if it worked, fine.

It seemed to work for a short time, but then she went back to being more aggressive than normal. Hoping that if we gave the food change some time to work, we tried some medication designed to help her be less aggressive, but she wouldn't take it. I tried many different methods including finally having it compounded at a special pharmacy with 'triple fish' flavor, but she wouldn't take it without my having to force it on her. Pooh was not a cat that would take medication without fighting and then being angry for several hours, afterwards, which basically nulled the effects of the medication. She just got so angry.

I was told that there was a surgery that we could try, but that it may or may not work. The surgery would remove the stones, now, but they could come right back. The surgery cost $500 and could have needed to be repeated up to once every other month.

The last week or so before she died, she was constantly either being angry at my or her sister, or she was seeking out dark, quiet places to lie down (not sleep; she wasn't sleeping much by that point).

It was obvious that she was unhappy and uncomfortable. I finally had to admit that I wouldn't be able to make her happy. I could make her less uncomfortable, by forcing medication on her, but it wouldn't make her happier; in fact, it would make her more unhappy. I decided that had to be important - her happiness.

I truly think I will always question my decision. Was I right to feel that way? Should I have simply forced the medication on her, and just hoped that she would have gotten used to it? Should I have put her physical state over her mental state? I'll never really know.


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