Goodbye sweet Honu Girl.
At 10:45 last night, Honu suffered what we have agreed was a heart attack, and died instantly. Wendall and I tried CPR, including blowing air into her mouth, but we could do nothing to bring her back to us. I called the emergency veterinary clinic who told me that they were located downtown, and were the only place open in a 75-mile radius. They wished me luck, and that was all.
Honu came to live with us on Father’s day, 2003. She was honestly too young to be separated from her mother when we saw her dropped off at the pet store, and we knew immediately that there was something not right about her. These things worked together to assure her place in our family. That she was a tortoiseshell cemented the deal. We called her Honu, the Hawaiian name for a sea turtle, because of her tortoiseshell markings, but we joked that she was a "Ho-nu (whole new) kitty!".
Honu was our special girl. Anyone who has ever had the luck to see her would agree. She weighed 18 pounds at her heaviest, and generally hovered around 16 pounds. All of her weight was carried in her stomach, leaving her with a small head and shoulders, a round belly, and small back legs. Her tail was kinked in four places, and formed a spiral, which was pressed up against her legs, making it hard to see at first. We have always assumed, and have had vets confirm, that she was injured during birth, and that though she looked and felt and was healthy, she would always have problems. She had difficulty sitting comfortably, could not curl into a ball, and could not jump well. All in all, she managed to be both lovely and absurd, a perfect combination for our funny girl.
At six years old (as of next month), Honu was just beginning to play and to crave our company. She was a skittish kitten who became an even more skittish cat, and was ever so slowly coming out of that shell. We joked that she was afraid of everything, including air. We celebrated each time she would allow us to walk past her without flinching, and reveled in the times she stayed put upon hearing a sudden noise.
Just last month I reached over her to pick up something on my bed. She reached out for the string tie on my pajama pants, and I stopped everything to play with her. The next morning I told Wendall, and he ran for the kitty fishing rod. That morning he told everyone at the bus stop and at school that his kitty was finally learning to play. I had to explain to everyone that she was six years old.
Wendall’s kitty. Wendall’s Honu Girl. I’m finding it hard to believe she is gone, though she was not sleeping on my feet this morning, did not join me in the kitty parade to the food dish, and has not tapped me on the elbow as I sit at the computer, I am still having a difficult time thinking of us as a two cat household.
We have always said that we have three humans and three cats. We all love all three girls, but each of us had a cat that was “our” kitty. Honu was most definitely The Boy’s girl. She did not sleep with him, because she could not jump up on his bed, but she loved to be near him and would run out to flop at his feet so he could pet her. Yesterday morning she found him sitting on the floor tying his shoes. She circled around him, purring and trilling and oh so happy. I had to remind him twice to go back to tying his shoes, as he would happily have pet her until she tired of the attention.
So this is goodbye to the sweetest little Honu Girl I’ll ever meet. We will take her to the vet this morning as soon as they open. We plan to take her ashes with us to Hawaii, as we were so looking forward to bringing all three of our Hawaiian girls home with us. I’m not sure what we will do from there, but I’m sure that the right thing will come to us in time.
For now, we will spend today learning to adjust to life without our sweet girl. We will be happy for the six years she spent with us, and we will take comfort in the knowledge that she was truly happy with us, and that our love for her was returned. Mostly, though, we will be sad. We will be missing Honu.
Honu came to live with us on Father’s day, 2003. She was honestly too young to be separated from her mother when we saw her dropped off at the pet store, and we knew immediately that there was something not right about her. These things worked together to assure her place in our family. That she was a tortoiseshell cemented the deal. We called her Honu, the Hawaiian name for a sea turtle, because of her tortoiseshell markings, but we joked that she was a "Ho-nu (whole new) kitty!".
Honu was our special girl. Anyone who has ever had the luck to see her would agree. She weighed 18 pounds at her heaviest, and generally hovered around 16 pounds. All of her weight was carried in her stomach, leaving her with a small head and shoulders, a round belly, and small back legs. Her tail was kinked in four places, and formed a spiral, which was pressed up against her legs, making it hard to see at first. We have always assumed, and have had vets confirm, that she was injured during birth, and that though she looked and felt and was healthy, she would always have problems. She had difficulty sitting comfortably, could not curl into a ball, and could not jump well. All in all, she managed to be both lovely and absurd, a perfect combination for our funny girl.
At six years old (as of next month), Honu was just beginning to play and to crave our company. She was a skittish kitten who became an even more skittish cat, and was ever so slowly coming out of that shell. We joked that she was afraid of everything, including air. We celebrated each time she would allow us to walk past her without flinching, and reveled in the times she stayed put upon hearing a sudden noise.
Just last month I reached over her to pick up something on my bed. She reached out for the string tie on my pajama pants, and I stopped everything to play with her. The next morning I told Wendall, and he ran for the kitty fishing rod. That morning he told everyone at the bus stop and at school that his kitty was finally learning to play. I had to explain to everyone that she was six years old.
Wendall’s kitty. Wendall’s Honu Girl. I’m finding it hard to believe she is gone, though she was not sleeping on my feet this morning, did not join me in the kitty parade to the food dish, and has not tapped me on the elbow as I sit at the computer, I am still having a difficult time thinking of us as a two cat household.
We have always said that we have three humans and three cats. We all love all three girls, but each of us had a cat that was “our” kitty. Honu was most definitely The Boy’s girl. She did not sleep with him, because she could not jump up on his bed, but she loved to be near him and would run out to flop at his feet so he could pet her. Yesterday morning she found him sitting on the floor tying his shoes. She circled around him, purring and trilling and oh so happy. I had to remind him twice to go back to tying his shoes, as he would happily have pet her until she tired of the attention.
So this is goodbye to the sweetest little Honu Girl I’ll ever meet. We will take her to the vet this morning as soon as they open. We plan to take her ashes with us to Hawaii, as we were so looking forward to bringing all three of our Hawaiian girls home with us. I’m not sure what we will do from there, but I’m sure that the right thing will come to us in time.
For now, we will spend today learning to adjust to life without our sweet girl. We will be happy for the six years she spent with us, and we will take comfort in the knowledge that she was truly happy with us, and that our love for her was returned. Mostly, though, we will be sad. We will be missing Honu.