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Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Just a Whisper

Anyone in my family will tell you I am not a pet person.  Never had one growing up, never wanted one.  Certainly didn't want one with three kids and a husband to take care of already.  The kids would always ask if we could get a dog.  I said, "When you learn to take care of all the INanimate objects laying around your room, you can get a pet."  I knew that would stop them because they could never keep their rooms clean for very long. I just could not see taking care of another thing and I knew that if we got a pet, I would be the one to feed and take care of it for the most part, no matter how much they told me different.

However, my husband has always been a pet person.  He's had dogs and cats all his life, sometimes more than one of each at a time.  I'm surprised we managed to be together for so long without an animal.  We did have two birds.  One flew out the door when I left the cage open (by accident, I swear!)  The other one died because of lack of interest (the kids said they could not play with a bird so it wasn't the same as a dog or cat).

And then one Memorial weekend hubby came home from work and was talking about a stray cat that had made friends with him in the parking lot of his work.  The cat "picked him" out of a bunch of guys out eating lunch and went right up to him.  At break time the cat came to him again.  When he came home from work it was all he could talk about, that poor cat.  Finally, I said, "Go get the cat, you're going to be miserable if you don't."  I didn't have to twist his arm.

She was a tiny thing, so black and small, and hardly made a sound so we named her Whisper.  She had been injured somehow and had a big scab on her side.  Before she was let in the house I said she had to be checked out so hubby took her down to the Peninsula Humane Society and said we had found her and wanted to keep her.  She was okay so we next took her and had her spayed and all her shots.  It didn't take long for her to make herself home:

After the spaying.
Helping me with laundry.

Reading a book.
Laying at MY feet.
Having a drink.

She started to get bigger and bigger.  Soon she was no longer the little tiny cat but she still was a very quiet cat.  In fact, we hardly ever heard her meow.  People would come over and say, "Wow, that's a fat cat!"  

She even made it into the
Christmas family photo.

Rachel made her a pillow bed.

She would look at me when her
bowl was empty as if to say, "Well, I'm waiting.

Unfortunately, for the last few days she was not eating and barely drinking any water, which she would not be able to keep down.  On one of the last vet visits they had told us that she could develop diabetes and kidney problems because she was so fat.  We were pretty sure that this was the end.      

We took her to the vet and they kept her for the afternoon, running blood tests and giving her fluids.  The blood tests were so out of normal range they would not even register.  Bill and I made the decision not to try to use extraordinary measures to save her.  It was hard but we could not see her suffer and there really was no way to stop the inevitable.  Bill held her in his arms while they gave her the last injection, comforting her and telling her it was going to be okay.  

Even though I still don't think I am a pet person, I cried and I will miss our little Whisper.

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