Two weeks from the day we found out that my twelve-year-old cat, Rosie, had severe kidney failure I put her to sleep.  Problems with her legs masked the fact that there were other issues going on and we thought she was in too much pain to get up.  I was shocked when the veterinarian told me she had lost 80% of her kidney function.

She stayed in the hospital for four nights, and finally started to eat.  The doctor thought she might do better at home.  We had to give her an IV of fluids once a day plus three other medications twice a day. It wasn’t easy but Rosie was worth it.  Unfortunately, she never really started to eat and on the day of her check-up, we knew there was no need to check anything. She was isolating herself from us and not getting up even to drink.

I never put a cat or any pet to sleep before.  When we brought her to the vet she did not seem scared. Grant said goodbye to her, not being able to stay in for the end and now I kind of wish I hadn’t either. The vet gave her a sedative which immediately caused her to stick her tongue out, which was kind of ironic because she used to do that all the time, causing us a lot of amusement.  The final shot came soon after and she went about 30 seconds later, with her tongue still out and her eyes still open.  They don’t close as easy as humans’ do.  I will never forget that image.

I felt strongly that her spirit was still there.  I asked her to be a kitty angel for us and to help our family. I really do believe that we will see our pets in Heaven and I told her to look out for my dad, that she would stay with him now.

I was scared to tell Tyler but at three-years-old, he really didn’t understand which was probably for the best.

I know that was tough to read but I wanted to get the bad stuff out first and then to tell you about my cat.  I knew her and her sister, Lizzie, since they were two weeks old and took them home with me at 6 and a half weeks.  They were my first “grown-up” cats, the ones I had when I was first out on my own. They’ve been with me through many roommates and many boyfriends and were the one constant and joy in my life when things were rough.

Rosie was the type of cat whom, even if you didn’t like cats, you liked.  She was very small for a domestic cat, about eight to nine pounds and she had huge eyes in a very small head.  Grant and I called her “play” kitty.  I used to say she would jump and play until she died if we didn’t stop her.  A couple of years ago she did stop playing as much because of her knee problems.

Being sick at home, she was a constant companion to me.  She loved to sleep and nap with me, the two of us laying back to back.  I always felt guilty that I couldn’t spend as much time with her after Tyler was born but she seemed to adjust.  I wish Tyler could have known her as Play Kitty.

Play Kitty is how I want to remember her.  Jumping as high as she could, racing after laser beams and chasing her sister.  Lizzie doesn’t seem to be looking for her, I think she knew the end was near for her.  She and one of my other cats licked her on the day I took her to be put down.  Lizzie seems to be becoming more affectionate to Grant and I.  Maybe she is trying to help us with our grief.

I will miss my very special Rosie, but I truly believe that I will see her again and she will be my Play Kitty once more.