Remembering Callie

A week ago Friday it became clear that something was wrong with our beloved Callie.  We were on our way out to our annual trek to Stokoe Farms, but Phil took time to call the vet and make an appointment for Saturday morning, to which he and Sarah kindly took Callie.  I was thinking she had a urinary tract infection; she'd get some pills and we'd be on our way.  Unfortunately, that was not to be.  Blood work revealed nothing, but an x-ray showed a large tumor on her intestine.  I hadn't realized she wasn't eating much - how I missed her three pound weight loss and emaciated body, I don't know.  But the tumor explained everything.  Phil and Sarah brought her home, knowing they couldn't make a decision about treatment without talking to me, since Callie had essentially become my cat.  The decision was made to put her down since the vet gave little hope of being able to remove the tumor. 

Last weekend I cried more than I have in a long time.  I cried until I thought my heart would break, then cried some more.  Callie had been my constant companion since my husband got sick five years ago.  She let me cry into her fur, snuggled with me during the night, head-butted me to let me know she cared, and listened as only a cat can do. 

So passed the weekend.  Despite seeing the suffering in her eyes, she tried to act as if not much was wrong.  Somehow she managed to jump the three feet onto the bed and wanted to be petted.  She even found the strength to jump from the toilet onto the vanity, and just hours before her death, took a long drink from the running faucet, something she did just about every morning.  On Monday afternoon, Phil, Sarah, and I took Callie to the vet for the final time.  She was a fighter to the end, requiring two doses of tranquilizer before the vet could give her the final injection that ended her life. 

We will miss Callie, yet we have fond memories of her.  The way she climbed my drapes when we first got her (she ruined them!), how she climbed the Christmas tree, making her paw bleed profusely after having her claws removed, eating turkey grease from the roasting pan and becoming terribly ill.  And these all happened in the first six months we had her!  She was a Calico through and through, having the fiesty personality they are famous for.  She mellowed throughout the 11 years of her life, except when it came to defending her buddy Klaus from our dog.  Thank you, Callie, for filling our lives with laughter and love.