Oh Hunding, my hairy little hunter, my bad-ass kitty, my sweet Honey Boy!
***
You were such a mystery to me. You were on the property when we moved into our first house. I decided to call you Hunding after the character in the Wagner opera. He was hairy and hunted and lived in a hut. You were hairy and hunted rats and lived in the shed at the back of the property. The opera character was a real bad guy, and so were you.
***
I tried to tame you for years. You would have none of it. You hissed at me when I talked to you, clawed my hands when I tried to pet you. I learned that there was maybe one cat in this world who really didn’t love me. I learned to accept it. I vowed that I would be there for you, no matter what, if you were ever injured or needed me.
***
Eight years went by. Then, one miraculous November day, you suddenly decided to take part in the Chicken Dance with the other kitties. Soon you would let me pet you. Another week, and you astonished me my jumping onto my lap and purring. You became a fixture on my chaise when I sat down to watch TV. You learned manners. You shared the bed. You amazed me.
***
Three months later, I was scratching you under your chin and I felt a lump. It grew. It got very big, very fast. I knew I had to take you into the vet for the first time. It was traumatic, but you were stoic about it. I found out that you were neutered, FIV negative (!), and that the lump was a malignant squamous cell carcinoma. The vet said you would have a 50/50 chance if he removed it. I decided you deserved that chance. I took you in on Thursday morning, and on Friday I went back to get you. The vet said that the surgery was much more extensive than he had originally anticipated, that there were two more tumors under the large one. He removed muscles, nerves, thyroid gland, and carotid artery along with the tumors.
***
I nursed you through the weekend as best I could. Chicken baby food mixed with warm water through a dropper, horrible antibiotic liquid that was flavored orange (for children), wiping your mouth and nose with a warm washcloth. I petted you, told you it would get better. You wouldn’t eat or drink. You had trouble breathing because of all the congestion. I talked to the vet on Saturday and Sunday. Fearing you would become dehydrated, I went down to the vet on Sunday and got fluids and sharps and came home and gave them to you.
***
You were so lovey. You sat on the foot of the bed, and when I called you, you struggled to get up and came up to me, purring all the while. You gave me your trust.
***
I didn’t sleep Sunday night. At 7:30 in the morning, I just decided you needed to go back to the vet. I hated to take you back there. I sang to you in the car all the way down Dolores Street.
***
“All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair, Oh wouldn’t it be loverly?
Lots of cat treats for me to eat, lots of coal makin’ lots o’ heat. Warm face, warm hands warm feet, Oh wouldn’t it be loverly?
Oh so loverly sittin’ abso-bloomin’-utely still! I would never budge till Spring crept out on me window sill!
Someone’s head restin’ on my knee, warm and tender as he can be, who takes good care of me Oh wouldn’t it be loverly? Loverly. Loverly. Loverly. Wouldn’t it be loverly?”
***
I thought they would be able to give you IV antibiotics and turn it all around. But when I got there, the vet looked at you and said he was not optimistic. He didn’t want to give me false hope. He said we could try another 24 hours, but after that, it was really not likely you would get any better. I decided I just couldn’t torture you another minute. You went to sleep with your head in my hand.
***
Hunding, my sweetie boy, I’m sorry I made such a terrible mistake. It was the one thing I didn’t want for you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to betray your trust. You will always be my wild sweet thing. Sleep well. I will remember you always, and I love you.
***
“Our animals shepherd us through certain eras of our lives. When we are ready to turn the corner and make it on our own…they let us go.” Anonymous
Love and chicken,
| Hunding |
| 24, Apr 2006 |
| Christine Springer |