We made the difficult decision to put down Patches today. She now joins Minnie and Mugger in the land where Sts. Francis and Genevieve will take care of them, leaving only Maya with us. We feared that Patches' health might not let her come to Nevada with us, but we didn't think she'd go downhill that fast or that soon.
In addition to cancer in her mammary glands, Patches had developed a huge kidney stone that simply would never be passed through her tiny bladder. The vet could have removed the kidney, but chances are her remaining kidney would have failed. Furthermore, her ability to walk and breathe were starting to be impaired, and there was a suspicious shadow around her heart that could well have been the spreading of the cancer. The vet was shocked to find so much at the same time.
We really had no choice.
The vet gave her a sedative and painkiller to calm her down, but Patches reacted in pain to the shot in her backside like she had seven different heads, like an old Looney Tunes cell. But then she calmed down and purred very quietly. After about 20 minutes, the vet sent Patches to what we trust is a far more peaceful place.
Her poor condition shocked me because this morning as I left for work, Patches gave me her "puppydog eyes" in which her pupils grew even larger than in the photo above. I thought she was feeling better. LC's call to me at work that she, and not Maya, was at the vet threw me for a loop. Maya has been having some urinary tract issues again.
Ah, memories of Patches abound. She originally belonged to LC's best friend and matron of honor, as did Mugger. We inherited both after her friend's husband up and left her and her kids (but that's another post). Patches was deeply attached to "the boy" (LC's friend's son and LC's godson, who is now in his final year at West Point), and her ears would perk up whenever we asked her, "Where's your boy?"
Patches not only was a cute longhair calico, but she knew she was cute. LC would have liked to have called her "Miss Prissy" for that reason, but we stuck with Patches as "the boy" had named her. Her eyes were so gorgeous.
Not long after we inherited Patches, her hair got to be so long that she developed clumps that just wouldn't be combed out, so we had her shaved. I wish I had taken some pictures; she looked like a Chihuahua.
She eventually beat out Maya for my affections, and we would often tussle with her laying on her back on the floor and me leaning over our ottoman, playfighting with my hands and her paws. She was also quick with a playbite, to which we'd usually say, "No bitey!"
If one of us were lying on the bed or sofa, chances were that Patches would find her way over to us and start licking our hair, as if to clean it.
But I remember best of all how she would just come over and start nudging my feet or legs. One night when she did so, I said, "I'm being Patched!"
Rest in peace, pretty girl.