Hey folks, today my cat of nineteen years, King, passed away. Since this thread is more about pictures, Iāll put most of the text in some tags as to not bring anyone down. Writing it is mostly for myself, I think.
Kingās story
[spoiler]He was a Maine Coon, I think. His origins are kind of weird. Back when I was in college, in my sophomore year, my roommateās girlfriendās brother apparently went kind of nuts at some point. He had two cats, who apparently werenāt fixed, and became many cats. While he had his nervous breakdown, his dad would apparently go to his apartment and feed the cats (I think on a weekly basis), but other than that they didnāt really have any human contact for the first few months of their lives.
Eventually they realized that wasnāt really a good situation for anyone, and started trying to find homes for them. I volunteered to take one, and thatās how I met King.
When I got him, he was around 8 months old, and already fully grown. He was also borderline feral at that point, and very skittish around people. He took to me pretty fast though for some reason, and developed a loyalty that Iāve never heard of in a cat. Heād follow me around, and when I sat on the couch, heād sit behind me and wrap his tail around my neck. The first time I left college to visit my parents, I left King in the apartment with my roommates for a few days. When I got back, they informed me that I was not to do that ever again, because King started howling a few hours after I left and didnāt stop all weekend. I named him King after the Tekken character, as Tekken was a common pastime in our apartment.
He also had some odd habits that he had developed as a kitten. Chiefly, he had apparently learned that when food was available, he needed to eat as much as possible before it was gone, probably because he had been competing for food with his siblings for the first few months of his life. I fed King with a feeder, which always worked fine. But for a long time, when it got empty or near empty, when Iād refill it he would absolutely gorge himself on it, sometimes making himself sick and throwing up. It took him a while to realize that heād have as much food as he wanted, all the time.
When I got him, as I said, he was already full grown. As such, I felt it was kind of inhumane to have him castrated. When I took him in to the vet for the first time I asked her about it, and she said that heād probably start spraying, but there was no real medical reason to get him fixed of he was going to be an indoor cat. In fact, heād probably be healthier if he wasnāt, in terms of maintaining a healthy weight. So I didnāt get him fixed. And yeah, he did spray. It was a never ending fight to try and get him to stop peeing on stuff. But I never regretted the decision, and I like to think he appreciated his fluffy balls.
Anyway, he lived a healthy life for around nineteen years, a pretty good run for a cat. He never had any health problems and always seemed happy, especially when Iād come home from work. But this past week he seemed pretty lethargic, and wasnāt moving around as well has normal. Yesterday he stopped drinking or eating. The decline was pretty fast, and I guess Iām thankful for that. He was always terrified of vets, and would get carsick, so I figured Iād just try to make him comfortable. Hereās a picture of him resting on my chest. I took it because I realized I might not get another chance. [/spoiler]
sad stuff
I was worried about him, and didnāt sleep well last night. Today I found him collapsed on the kitchen floor, and he wasnāt really able to walk on his own. Today was pretty rough. I laid him down on a big pillow, and spent most of the day just petting him and trying to keep him from being scared. Around noon it got really bad though, and he seemed to be in a lot of pain and confusion. I actually broke down and called the vet, because I couldnāt deal with seeing him suffer like that. Itās Sunday, so the vet was only taking emergency calls. I talked to their answering service and they said a vet would be calling me back. But while waiting, King passed away. It was in some ways a big relief, because I was really upset watching his final hours. But itās sad now thinking about how I wonāt see him again. Iāve got all his stuff here. Brushes and combs. I had gotten him some cat grass last weekend before this all started, and it sprouted and is full grown now, but he never got to eat it. He always liked eating plants for some unknown reason. I had also bought a fresh bag of cat food, which is unopened. That kind of stuff is hard to deal with.
But he had a good life, I think. Iāll miss him a lot, but he was the best pet I ever had. Here are some pictures of King in his fluffy prime. Heh, maybe not his prime, as he was already maybe 16 or so in these pictures.
Anyway, Iām sad now, but I guess itās just part of having a pet, or really loving anything. But as is always the case, itās worth it, because my life was undoubtedly better thanks to fluffy King. Even with him marking everything I owned as his, I appreciate his letting me share it with him. āŗ
