Great sadness

Friday @ 2:30 my dear Puck died. He was a strong willed Abyssinian who leaves a large hole in our lives and our hearts. The other three cats are wandering around the house confused. The vet I had been using diagnosed him with kidney disease when I brought him in, unwell. Then the lab work said that wasn’t it. She had ignored my description of his symptoms in January and said he needed his teeth worked on. I did that in February and he never really recovered. I changed vets recently when she still couldn’t give me a diagnosis. My new vet discovered he had cancer and it had metastasized. I could see three large tumors in X-rays and ultrasound. I feel it could have been treated when he first started being more lethargic and when his white blood count first went up. We made him as comfortable as he could. the new vet Duni said he could not last a month. She was surprised he stayed with us as long as he did. it was sheer will power. He loved his life with us and he particularly was attached to me. He was with me every moment he could be. I had to go to Beth Israel in Boston yesterday for my annual X-rays and checkup on the knee replaced at the end of June last year. We were there for three hours, waiting and waiting and waiting. the actual X-rays and checkup took about 25 minutes. We got into rush hour traffic coming home and didn’t get home till early evening. Puck was unresponsive. I took him to bed with me last night. He was restless and kept changing position trying to be comfortable. I called the vet. She said it was time. I must have cried for an hour and a half. It was a peaceful death and Woody buried him in a shroud – a beautiful piece of antique embroidery I’ve had since 1965. We planted a Knockout double rose over him. I can see it from my office window. I will get a rescue kitten soon. When a cat dies, I always get a kitten who needs a home. I would get a mature cat, but I have three other cats and kittens are far easier to bring into the house and have the big cats find acceptable. the only time I was able to successfully take in an older cat was when Jim Beam, who was a gay Burmese, brought home some rough trade we named Boris. He never could learn to use a litter box so had to go out at night, but Jim Beam loved him and he lived out his short remaining life of two years and a half with us, very affectionate and happy. Jim Beam’s sister Colette accepted him; our old longhaired rescue Cho Cho never did. she hissed at him till he died, but he shrugged it off as she was much smaller than him and not about to fight him. I am still too sad to write much more. The prognosis on my knees was very good; I have great mobility even though they hurt sometimes and I was told I’ll never be able to kneel. But I was told I can do just about anything else except kneel or jump. I had a good regular exam with my own doctor last week who said many of her patients would kill for my blood pressure and the other tests they do. So I’m pretty healthy at the moment, although I picked a deer tick off me when I came in from the burial. I’m making cilantro pesto and freezing some of it. We have a lot of cilantro right now, so I’m also freezing small amounts of it in ittle plstic bags – to use when we don’t have any. I’m glad American Pharoah won the Triple Crown. I remember when Secretariat won it. He was so far ahead of the other horses, they weren’t even on the television screen.