I remember the day we found Gerta – or she found us. It was Easter weekend 2005. We had gone to a pet store to buy cat food for our two cats Katie & Molly. I was looking through a different part of the store, when our son and daughter ran up to me to get me to go look at the cats up for adoption. I resisted, but fell for the “it’s just to look” line.
There were several cats in stacked cages in a glassed enclosure. They were from the local animal shelter, and the kids were interested in a young, playful cat in a bottom cage. Very friendly and playful, but totally freaked out if anyone tried to pick it up. The sales staff said it had been badly abused, and needed to be in a single pet home. While we were standing there, our daughter suddenly said “Hey!”
Gerta had reached through her cage and grabbed our daughter’s hair, and was chewing on it. We had noticed her when we walked into the enclosure, but she was curled up and seemingly asleep. When she playfully pulled our daughter’s hair through her enclosure, she hooked us all. We were soon all holding her, and she was purring contentedly. I reluctantly said yes to adopting her, and she came home with us that day.
According to our vet’s estimate, she was 5-8 years old, and in good health. We were told by the animal shelter staff that Gerta had been abused, and it was apparent by her behavior. She cringed when we reached to pet her, and was skittish for several months, until she finally accepted that she was in a loving home. I’ve always believed anyone who abuses animals would do the same to a child. Gerta was very loveable, although she was not a lap kitty. She enjoyed being petted, and would often climb on the desk when one of us was at the computer, or would climb on the couch and nuzzle and kiss the back of our heads. She would often lay on the arm of the chair or couch, or up
on the back behind our heads.
Gerta became the old lady of the house when Katie died in July 2012. She was still playful, and was the only one of our cats who would chase a flashlight beam. It was always fun watching her play, and as recently as last week, I saw her playing with a kitty toy. But she was getting old, and thinner. About a year ago, she was sick, and we took her to the vet. She had several bad teeth, and a couple of abscesses. A total of 8 teeth were pulled, and the abscesses cleaned. She perked up almost immediately, and became much more lively. She was obviously feeling much better and enjoying life more, but it was only a short reprieve.
Over the past couple of years, we’ve watched her getting thinner and more clingy with us. We knew her time was short, but didn’t know how much. She suddenly became sick the evening of Sunday, 1/18/15. She was lethargic and crying, and I sat down in the floor with her to hold her. For a few minutes, it seemed as if her time was up, then she suddenly jumped out of my lap and began cleaning herself. She started crying for food, and we gave her some of her favorite treat, turkey, which she ravenously devoured and wanted more. We obliged with a bit more. It was to be her last meal. Later in the evening, we picked her up and put her on her favorite resting spot, a pillow under a lamp where she could enjoy the heat. We knew she was sick, and would be taking her to the vet the next morning.
I awoke early on MLK day to Gerta crying desperately. I found her sprawled on her pillow, unable to rise or move anything but her head. I gently carried her to the couch, where I put a comforter on my lap, laid her down, and covered all but her head with a light towel. The Emergency vet clinic was closed, and it would be almost two hours before our vet’s office opened. All I could do was stroke her fur softly and talk to her to calm her as much as possible. I did plenty of crying and praying, too. It seemed as if my presence helped, as her frantic crying subsided. I knew she was dying, but there was little I could do.
About 45 minutes later, I called down the hallway to my wife to help with feeding and walking our other animals. She called the vet, and I was surprised someone answered at 7:45. It would be another hour before the vet arrived. All we could do was comfort Gerta as much as possible. I told her it was OK to let go, that we loved her and always would. But it was as if she wasn’t ready to leave yet. My heart was broken to see her so weak. I carried her to the car, and shortly after we left our home, her little body surrendered, and she was gone. We went to the vet anyway, just to make sure, but there was nothing to be done. By our description, the vet said it sounded like heart failure.
As I write this 24 hours later, I can’t describe the anguish I’m feeling. It is the third time as a couple we’ve lived through the death of a pet, and it never gets easier. My wife is actually doing better than I am. I know I’ll get through this, like I always have, but right now, I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am trying to not let her dying moments redefine what was a long and loving life. I am trying to be grateful. I am thankful we were in the right place and the right time to give this beautiful, abandoned cat a loving home. I am thankful for her years of companionship. I am thankful I got to enjoy her company and watch her playful antics. Finally, I am thankful I was there to hold and comfort her in her final moments, so she didn’t die alone and afraid.
We will always love you and miss you.
| Gerta |
| 19, Jan 2015 |
| Tony & Chris |