About 10 years ago my family was still living in apts. And my mom and I had hinted to my dad and sister that we wanted a cat. Of course we never thought it would actually happen but it was wishful thinking. But the Christmas of 1998 my dad and sister surprised my mom and I with the money to go buy a cat. Out first stop was the Humane Society. We both had in our heads that we were looking for a little kitten. I walked to the back—and a furry little gray tabby caught my attention. He was a little older then we were looking for, and there was a smaller kitten there but hadn’t been fixed or declawed yet. We told them we would come back and decided to go to the pound to see what they had. I'm pretty sure we were only in there maybe 5-10 minutes. That place was soooo depressing it broke my hear to be in there. So we went back to the Humane Society, and Winston became the newest member of our family. I remember thinking that I was really going to have to get used to his name. And I was a little confused because we were told that Winston came to be at the Humane Society because a little old lady said he was too frisky. In the entire time we had Winston I only recall a handful of times where I would have defined him as frisky. But nonetheless he fit right into our family.
In the beginning he was in an exploratory phase—always testing the boundaries and seeing just how high he could get. And though my mom always feels bad about it—she did think about possibly taking him back. The thing I remember most about this time was that my sister was in her first year of college so I never saw her a whole lot and we seemed to always be up and down. But when there was the possibility that Winston would be returned she supported me as we told mom that we just couldn’t let him go and to give it a little more time. As mom and I look back on it now—it wasn’t so much that we didn’t want him or didn’t think we could handle him, it was more of the fact that we weren’t prepared for a kitten. So we used scotch tape to tape off shelves he wasn’t allowed on and had to watch the kitchen counters for stray tufts of fur!!
Winston had his favorite spots in the apt.: on top of the couch, under the recliner (we always had to watch that because he would sneak under there and then we would close it and hours later go looking for him!), on top of the bookshelves (at this height he felt invincible and would bat our head with his paws), and laundry baskets. So life continued as though we had had Winston forever!
Winston wasn’t always a huge player. We had a toy that we would use that he would chase and he would do that but other then that he found his own things to call toys. I liked to put scraps of fabric on him to make him look like he was SUPER CAT! And Josh, my brother in law (or was it my sister? Cant remember) tied a balloon to his tail and he FREAKED OUT on that one! But he would mostly just lay around and perfect the lazy cat stereotype.
Eventually we moved into a house. It was a traumatic time for him.. he hid behind the toilet in the bathroom even though I was in there keeping him company. He never felt the same about that bathroom again. But he eventually came around and became the leader, nay THE RULER of this house. You may wonder, “Did you mind that you always catered to him… that he ruled the roost?” Of course not, because even though he depended on mom and I for food and cleaning of certain waste disposal areas and demanded attention on his time…. I always knew that if I was sad or sick that he would come running in my room and stay with me whether I wanted him to or not. Soon certain schedules were formed, and habits arose. He would always be waiting for me either in the hallway by my door or in the entryway of the kitchen when I got home. I never knew how he knew I was home ( I guess its that super cat hearing, but then again mom said he would be there like ½ hour before I got home). He nearly always read the paper with mom in the morning—well mom read the paper he laid on it and demanded her petting, Noon was lunch time and he would let us know if we were late—and these things continued for a majority of his life.
In the part few years certain changes came—Winston’s asthma seemed to increase, he got really dry skin so he started to pull his hair out everywhere (which increased his baths which he was never too fond of), he would take little bites at mom, etc. But we figured he was stressed for some reason or another and that the dry weather was wreaking havoc on his skin. But regardless of these changes he was still Winston.
Winston had a great sense about people. If I brought a person to the house and Winston didn’t like them… that person actually ended up being not such a great person. I always felt like he was looking out for me.
So onto the most recent events. I guess about a month ago I noticed weird things with Winston. He followed me around everywhere—I mean into the bathroom when I took a shower—everywhere. He was more clingy then usual. But I liked that he wanted my attention. Then, about 2 weeks ago mom and I started noticing that he wasn’t eating much. He used to inhale his wet cat food at lunch time but he was now leaving at least half on the plate. He wasn’t eating his dry cat food—even the dental diet balls which he would always eat above everything else. So we changed wet cat food and we changed dry cat food and he seemed to adapt well to that and things went back to normal. Or so we thought. We then started noticing that he was loosing weight. I was only recently that the vet told us that Winston was a big boned cat—he had a large frame—so he wasn’t necessarily fat just “big boned.” But we could feel every vertebra in his spine, every bone in his pelvis. Something was obviously up. So we made an appointment at the vet. Little side note—at this time Winston now never ever left either my side or my moms side—he slept with us and didn’t paw to get out of the rooms—and he seemed to favor the top of one of the cabinets in my mom’s room.
We took him vet on Monday and he was none to happy. The vet looked at him and said that he had lost weight (about 1 ½ lbs which felt like 10). She didn’t feel anything abnormal in his body so she took some blood for a full blood panel. The vet said that we probably wouldn’t find out until the next morning. So it became a waiting game….. but neither mom nor I would voice the gut feeling we had. So the Tuesday I left for work at 8:45 sort of pissed off because I was hoping we would hear from the vet before I left. I got to work and was distracted obviously. I had my cell phone close by and was waiting for the call. My boss, Brenda, who is also my best friends mom, came into the room and told me that my mom was on the phone, she had called the church I worked at instead of my cell. After that it is kid of fuzzy. She told me that everything on his blood panel came up critical and that it wasn’t good and I needed to come home. I sobbed uncontrollably the whole way home.. repeating NO NO NO NO. I came home and went straight to Winston. I just cried—that’s all I knew to do. I felt like he was looking at me like “Whats wrong?” He didn’t look in pain—he just looked tired. I stayed with him for the rest of the time. Mom called Diana and Dad and told them what was going on. The vet said that he didn’t even know how Winston was still walking—he should have been comatose. Diana and Dad both said that he was still being so strong because of Mom and I. I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse. I love how he was fighting so hard to be strong for us but I also hated that he was putting himself in pain to be strong for us. The time came to take him for his last ride. And thinking about it makes me cry—its like he knew. He had been soooo quiet all day and when he got in the car he wouldn’t stop meowing—it made it so hard and I felt so bad. We got to the vets and went to the back and placed him on this cold metal table. The vet came and talked to us. To me he was cold and insincere. I could never be a vet because I would become attached to the animals. He really needed to work on his bedside manner. Final diagnosis seemed to be kidney cancer but that would be positive unless and autopsy was performed and well that just wasn’t happening. He shaves his arm and told us we would probably have to hold him down.. but Winston just layed down and became quiet. The vet administered the drug and Winston shrunk down. Of course mom and I were a mess. The vet didn’t warn us that Winston would have to expel the air out of his lungs. So he sort of gasped twice after we already thought he was gone. That made everything worse. We brought him back home and buried him by the Easter lilies that are growing back there. Dad asked us when we got home if it happened at 2:45? We couldn’t really remember but we knew it was sometime around there. He said that he was out back digging the grave and at 2:45 his heart started to race and he had to stop what he was doing.. he had a weird feeling. How weird is that. So we paid our respects and cried some more. That was 2 days ago.
I go out each morning and talk to him—just to keep him up to date on how the family is doing. I feel like it will help me get closure eventually. Mom and I still have our moments where we just cry. I still expect to see him waiting for me when I get home, and come bounding into the room and onto the bed when mom and I are chatting at night. Mom hasn’t been able to read the paper at the table because shes just not ready—and lunch times are hard for her because that was always a thing with her and Winston. So little by little we try to piece our lives back together. All of us, Mom, Dad, and I have noticed a serious drop in energy. We are tired all the time. This death has brought my family closer—and though I love that it has done that—I wish it was under different circumstances. So to all of you who got to meet Winston and see how special he was—he is now in a better place and I cant wait to see him again. I will always love my baby boy.
(This is the last picture taken of Sir Winston-- he will always be the most handsome cat)
