Rest in Peace Kit Lucas
As some of you already know, today (9-7-06) I put my beloved cat, Kit (also know as Party-Hat Thunder Lucas) to sleep after a long, 16 and a half year old run.
I got Kit when I was 5 years old, the last year we lived in Indiana. My mom brought him home in his kitten form in her coat one day, I think it was a little after I had given my old cat Elmo to a farm. He immediately bolted under the China cabinet and stayed there for quite some time. Eventually, we coaxed him out using a piece of bologna and some cheese. My mom had me do it, so that he would attach to me. Oh oh did her ever attach to me! Not sure why, because I dragged him around by his tail for YEARS!
A year or so later we moved to Arizona, Kit right next tome in his cage in the truck. He loved the rides, laying on his back, belly to the sunshine. When we would stop at rest areas he would go nicely back into his cage and wait for us, watching us let our dog Macey (sp?) out to pee.
He loved Arizona. The weather was good for his young bones and he would fly around the house chasing scorpions and quails outside. But, he was always ready to go if we needed to, which we did about 4 years later, when Dad was transferred again.
He loved Arkansas, too! He was a bit older, so it was mostly sleeping and cuddles for him. Everything revolved around that cat, my ONLY cat (I know, 1 cat, weird). I was given a home-made loft bed one year, and we specially built cat steps for Kit, so he could always be with me. I used to test his reflexes by dropping him off the top of the bed, oh man... He still put up with it, and loved me just as much. We also got my second cat, Mew, that year as a kitten. She was different than Kit, quiet and kind of bitchy haha. It was also this same time that during the night I would play with him, and one of those nights, while I had my glasses off, he sliced my right eye open with one of his claws. Instead of being upset, or having my eye hurt or complaining about it, I begged my parents not to blame Kit, "it's not his fault, I made him do it."
We moved AGAIN to another house in Arkansas and I had a huge bedroom, with plenty of space for him to find spots to sleep. That year I got my first full size bed, and instead of using the whole thing myself, I turned half of the bed into a cat spot. I made little beds for Kit and Mew, and used their favorite blanket for them. Kit often ended up right on top of my head anyway, though.
We moved to California next. He really loved sitting on the stairs next to our front door, so he could watch everyone come into the house. And without fail, every morning when my dad got up @ 5 am to make his coffee, Kit would walk downstairs with him,a ND they would "talk" to each other about their new day. EVERY MORNING.
We didn't stay there long, and with this move, Kit was almost 10 years old. He settled well into the new, gigantic house; staying mostly in my room and when mom wasn't looking, on our couch.
We got Jasper this year, my 6 year old black fat cat (he's 24 lb!). Kit was so excepting of everyone, giving them a couple of cracks on the head so they knew who was boss. Mew drove Jasper crazy, though.
When we moved to Belmont, Kit was 14 years old. That's OLD for a cat, in a lot of ways. He was tired, and ready to sleep. But he still jumped up to get treats, came to bed when I said "All right, time to go to sleep guys," and cuddled with me in bed.
I met my long-term Boyfriend Brett when kit was almost 15. I ended up spending a lot of time in Epsom, at Brett's house- meaning I wasn't spending time with Kit. This prompted me, after about a year, to get a place with Brett, so I could be with Kit, too.
Moving Kit when he was almost 16 years old was hard. I was so worried about him being all right in the car, but he always surprised me and made a great driving buddy. He would just sleep and wait, as if to say, "Take your time, I'm good."
He loved the new apartment. It was small and he could get around to everyone really easily and fast. We were worried that Brett's Bengal cat Thief would try to attack him, but much to our surprise, Thief seemed to understand that kit was old and deserved respect and space. They ever got to a point where they could eat out of the same bowl at the same time, and Thief would nuzzle kit often, saying, "Hey old timer, how you feeling?"
Around May, Kit started getting bad poops, and he was drinking far too much. I brought him tot he ER in Concord (meanies) and they told me he needed to be put under 2 types of anesthesia and have all his teeth pulled, totaling $800 plus. I said no on the spot, because putting my baby through that would have been awful.
I brought him home with some antibiotics and he seemed to get better. He was still eating and he even drank a bit less.
This past Sunday, however, Brett told me Kit was "starting to smell funny." This prompted me to go into crazy cat mom mode, watching his every move and analyzing everything. Kit was in pain, and I knew it had something to do with his Kidneys.
I refused to take him to the vet because I thought the drive would be too invasive. But I woke up this morning and looked in his eyes. Minus the physical effects like his pupils not dilating and his second eyelids not retracting, he was sad looking. He didn't look vibrant and he looked like he was pleading to me to make him feel better, like I had so many times before.
So I brought him into the vet this morning with Mom, and found out his Kidney levels were off the charts. A normal 10-30 value, his were at 156! That's FAR too high to be fixed... At least with any thought of regaining a normal life. I made the decision to have he put down. Signing that form, allowing them perform this, was one of the hardest, if not the hardest moment of my life. I will never forget how that felt, sadness ravaging my body.
I was allowed to be with him for a couple of minutes before they put him down. He stared at me and purred for the first time in over a week. He knew that he was going to be happy and at peace soon. He looked so good for a second. I held him while they were giving him the medicine and I just kept repeating softly in his ear "I love you, I love you, everything will be all right now, I love you so much."
I don't want remember him as the sad, scared, sick cat that he was before he passed. I want to remember him as the happy cat, with the gorgeous green eyes and amazing spirit that I had for 16 years and that I saw in his eyes right before he left me.
I want you all to know that he is in a better place now, happy and healthy and not sick anymore. He's sitting on warm banky in the sky, drinking my leftover cereal milk, watching me get older through his everlasting window.
Kit was 16 and a half years old on August 19th. He lived one of the most amazing lives a cat could ever live, and I couldn't have asked for a better companion to share my life with. He was there when I didn't have ANYONE to love me, or be my friend when I was in a new town. He was there, licking the tears off my face when my parents got separated. He was there head butting me every time someone dumped me, softly meowing "They don't deserve you, you're amazing, they're scum!"
Kit is the reason I am still alive to write this e-mail today, as few of you know. Not something I'll go into now. But he saved my life when I was 17, and everyone who knows, knows he was an angel. I thank him for so much, and I will always love him. He was my angel, IS my angel. He will always be in my heart.
-Misty
Rest in Peace my beautiful boy, I love you forever... You deserve nothing but peace now
I got Kit when I was 5 years old, the last year we lived in Indiana. My mom brought him home in his kitten form in her coat one day, I think it was a little after I had given my old cat Elmo to a farm. He immediately bolted under the China cabinet and stayed there for quite some time. Eventually, we coaxed him out using a piece of bologna and some cheese. My mom had me do it, so that he would attach to me. Oh oh did her ever attach to me! Not sure why, because I dragged him around by his tail for YEARS!
A year or so later we moved to Arizona, Kit right next tome in his cage in the truck. He loved the rides, laying on his back, belly to the sunshine. When we would stop at rest areas he would go nicely back into his cage and wait for us, watching us let our dog Macey (sp?) out to pee.
He loved Arizona. The weather was good for his young bones and he would fly around the house chasing scorpions and quails outside. But, he was always ready to go if we needed to, which we did about 4 years later, when Dad was transferred again.
He loved Arkansas, too! He was a bit older, so it was mostly sleeping and cuddles for him. Everything revolved around that cat, my ONLY cat (I know, 1 cat, weird). I was given a home-made loft bed one year, and we specially built cat steps for Kit, so he could always be with me. I used to test his reflexes by dropping him off the top of the bed, oh man... He still put up with it, and loved me just as much. We also got my second cat, Mew, that year as a kitten. She was different than Kit, quiet and kind of bitchy haha. It was also this same time that during the night I would play with him, and one of those nights, while I had my glasses off, he sliced my right eye open with one of his claws. Instead of being upset, or having my eye hurt or complaining about it, I begged my parents not to blame Kit, "it's not his fault, I made him do it."
We moved AGAIN to another house in Arkansas and I had a huge bedroom, with plenty of space for him to find spots to sleep. That year I got my first full size bed, and instead of using the whole thing myself, I turned half of the bed into a cat spot. I made little beds for Kit and Mew, and used their favorite blanket for them. Kit often ended up right on top of my head anyway, though.
We moved to California next. He really loved sitting on the stairs next to our front door, so he could watch everyone come into the house. And without fail, every morning when my dad got up @ 5 am to make his coffee, Kit would walk downstairs with him,a ND they would "talk" to each other about their new day. EVERY MORNING.
We didn't stay there long, and with this move, Kit was almost 10 years old. He settled well into the new, gigantic house; staying mostly in my room and when mom wasn't looking, on our couch.
We got Jasper this year, my 6 year old black fat cat (he's 24 lb!). Kit was so excepting of everyone, giving them a couple of cracks on the head so they knew who was boss. Mew drove Jasper crazy, though.
When we moved to Belmont, Kit was 14 years old. That's OLD for a cat, in a lot of ways. He was tired, and ready to sleep. But he still jumped up to get treats, came to bed when I said "All right, time to go to sleep guys," and cuddled with me in bed.
I met my long-term Boyfriend Brett when kit was almost 15. I ended up spending a lot of time in Epsom, at Brett's house- meaning I wasn't spending time with Kit. This prompted me, after about a year, to get a place with Brett, so I could be with Kit, too.
Moving Kit when he was almost 16 years old was hard. I was so worried about him being all right in the car, but he always surprised me and made a great driving buddy. He would just sleep and wait, as if to say, "Take your time, I'm good."
He loved the new apartment. It was small and he could get around to everyone really easily and fast. We were worried that Brett's Bengal cat Thief would try to attack him, but much to our surprise, Thief seemed to understand that kit was old and deserved respect and space. They ever got to a point where they could eat out of the same bowl at the same time, and Thief would nuzzle kit often, saying, "Hey old timer, how you feeling?"
Around May, Kit started getting bad poops, and he was drinking far too much. I brought him tot he ER in Concord (meanies) and they told me he needed to be put under 2 types of anesthesia and have all his teeth pulled, totaling $800 plus. I said no on the spot, because putting my baby through that would have been awful.
I brought him home with some antibiotics and he seemed to get better. He was still eating and he even drank a bit less.
This past Sunday, however, Brett told me Kit was "starting to smell funny." This prompted me to go into crazy cat mom mode, watching his every move and analyzing everything. Kit was in pain, and I knew it had something to do with his Kidneys.
I refused to take him to the vet because I thought the drive would be too invasive. But I woke up this morning and looked in his eyes. Minus the physical effects like his pupils not dilating and his second eyelids not retracting, he was sad looking. He didn't look vibrant and he looked like he was pleading to me to make him feel better, like I had so many times before.
So I brought him into the vet this morning with Mom, and found out his Kidney levels were off the charts. A normal 10-30 value, his were at 156! That's FAR too high to be fixed... At least with any thought of regaining a normal life. I made the decision to have he put down. Signing that form, allowing them perform this, was one of the hardest, if not the hardest moment of my life. I will never forget how that felt, sadness ravaging my body.
I was allowed to be with him for a couple of minutes before they put him down. He stared at me and purred for the first time in over a week. He knew that he was going to be happy and at peace soon. He looked so good for a second. I held him while they were giving him the medicine and I just kept repeating softly in his ear "I love you, I love you, everything will be all right now, I love you so much."
I don't want remember him as the sad, scared, sick cat that he was before he passed. I want to remember him as the happy cat, with the gorgeous green eyes and amazing spirit that I had for 16 years and that I saw in his eyes right before he left me.
I want you all to know that he is in a better place now, happy and healthy and not sick anymore. He's sitting on warm banky in the sky, drinking my leftover cereal milk, watching me get older through his everlasting window.
Kit was 16 and a half years old on August 19th. He lived one of the most amazing lives a cat could ever live, and I couldn't have asked for a better companion to share my life with. He was there when I didn't have ANYONE to love me, or be my friend when I was in a new town. He was there, licking the tears off my face when my parents got separated. He was there head butting me every time someone dumped me, softly meowing "They don't deserve you, you're amazing, they're scum!"
Kit is the reason I am still alive to write this e-mail today, as few of you know. Not something I'll go into now. But he saved my life when I was 17, and everyone who knows, knows he was an angel. I thank him for so much, and I will always love him. He was my angel, IS my angel. He will always be in my heart.
-Misty
Rest in Peace my beautiful boy, I love you forever... You deserve nothing but peace now