Rest in peace, Meshach

He was a cranky ole cat. I attribute it to the fact that he came to me from the mouth of my college buddy's Husky. A 4-week-old scared kitten with a big chunk of his side missing.

When his hair grew back in the area of his trauma, it grew back white. An otherwise pure black kitty.

When he was about six months old, the vet suggested that I euthanize him. The reason being, he was a really mean cat. He used to attack me, and whoever else he could, while I was sleeping, walking, whatever. I learned to spank him, and after a couple months of figuring out "who was boss", he mellowed out a bit with the humans. He was still a mean cat to his little sister, Booties.

He always got the red dot at the vet's, which meant "fractious". In other words, he'd lose it whenever he went to the animal hospital. The vets all would talk about his extremely challenging behavior.

After Booties died in 1997, I declawed his front paws.

He was much nicer to Annabelle, his new sister kitty. I think he always had a bit of a crush on her, as evidenced by his occasional attempts to air-hump her - even though both of them were missing their special parts. It was always a riot to watch him mount her.

Meshach lived with me for 15 years. Four in FL, three in GA, and the last eight in WA.

A couple weeks ago, I started noticing little puddles of urine wherever he sat and slept. He was acting fine, but the "dribbling" was a curious new development.

We went to the vet, and we discovered a few maladies: liver, heart, kidneys. We tried to treat the liver problem with medication, just in case it was an infection we couldn't find. Until just yesterday, he was eating, drinking, and being Meshach as usual.

Yesterday when I came home, I went to feed the cats and he didn't bother to get up to eat. In the last fifteen years, I had never remembered him as not having a voracious appetite. This morning, he didn't bother for breakfast either.

The vet and I spoke on the phone this morning, and we agreed that I should bring him in again; I shouldn't wait a couple days to monitor him.

For the first time, he was not fractious at the vet's. He barely raised a fuss when the vet examined him. She said that based on his history, this was a sign that he was very sick.

The blood test showed that his kidney levels had risen over the past 10 days. The medication wasn't working, and in fact was making it worse. So just like that, I had to make the decision to say goodbye. In at 9:45; gone by 11:45. I think vets are trained to tell pet owners that they are making good decisions about euthanasia. Still, it's hard to make that decision - especially since his spirits and activity level only started changing yesterday. But the thought of bringing him back home just to watch him suffer more and more over the next several days or trying to manage several maladies with little hope for recovery or comfort... I don't think I could've bore it. I'm glad I only saw him act sick for one day.

He was a cranky ole cat, but he was very sweet and affectionate to me. He liked to sleep on my chest or by my face, cuddling up next to my cheek. They were the only places he liked to sleep when I was around. In the last week, he was even more affectionate than usual - placing his paws on my chest or cheek as we slept.

Almost all of my adult life, he was my companion. I've known him a year longer than I've known Bill, who also loved him dearly when we were together.

I will miss Meshach a lot. May you rest in peace, sweet ole cranky kitty.