One of the scanned pictures of Basette; she was seven. This is the Little Black Wonder Cat(tm). See the sparkle in her eye? That sly calculating look? She was purring when I took this photo. She posed for a series of five pictures. Such a photogenic little critter.

I took some of the original pictures to the vet’s along with a poem I wrote (which will be posted later). They were so delighted. The staff took the printed poem and chose a picture. They are going to frame it and put it up along with the photo they chose. Dr. Kris asked me how many pictures she could have. She took two and seemed delighted to have pictures of Basette in her prime.

It felt so good to share some happiness about Basette with other people. It never ceases to amaze me how much she was loved. How much she *IS* loved.

It seemed appropriate to post this picture today since Basette’s ashes have arrived at the vet’s. It was the last picture I took of her, minute before she was put to sleep. It’s painful to see how different she looks. So lost. She wasn’t there any more; her mind had fled the misery her body was in. (Yes, the picture is that small for a reason. Click on the thumbnail for a larger image.)

Basette’s ashes are in a small wooden box. The box is so tiny; seems so slight, like her. I lost it when the vet handed me a blue plastic moulding with impressions of Basette’s front paws. She was so dainty. I always told people that her paws were the size of my thumbs, and sure enough, my thumbs fit perfectly into the paw prints.

I’ll include a photo of it later, when I can type without crying.

I think I’ve figured out a way to deal with some of the grief: making a memorial for Basette here at the house. I have a small table with pictures of all of my relatives who have died, poems I wrote for eulogies, and knick-knacks that remind me of them. An apple pie-scented candle for my grandmother who baked amazing pies; a picture of my Dad playing with the cats; two pages worth of photos. And two silver dollars representing the two coins to pay Charon, the Ferryman, for passage across the River Styx.

I’ve found about 10 pictures of Basette over the years. There is one picture where her eyes are brilliant green, and another, taken a minute later, they are gold. I’m scanning the pictures and will post them here soon.

It hasn’t really hit me that Basette won’t be back. On an intellectual level, I know that she won’t be back; that she is gone forever to visit only in memories. On an emotional level, it’s very hard to accept. No, not hard to accept. It is hard to express the grief.

How do you say goodbye to a kitten who has been with you for 14 years? I’ll always think of her as the spunky cat who played tag, chased hemlines, became the inviso-cat by hiding on stairs at night, and the purrbox who cuddled me through all of my relationship disasters.

I feel like I’ve been living in limbo, pushing myself so I don’t have to deal with this loss. I’ll have to stop eventually and face it. Just not quite yet.

It has been only a few days since Basette was put to sleep. I left for travel that same day.

How do you prepare to walk into your home and not be greeted by a furry little friend? How do you know for the emotional shock of seeing remnants of your pet’s life — but no pet?

Friday it will hit me, and probaby quite hard. Basette was a constant companion for 14 years.

Man, I feel old. My youngest sister — 15 years younger than me — just graduated from high school. Even though I missed the ceremony, I was able to make it for the family party.

So good news (her graudation) and bad news (Basette’s passing).

I’m in DC this week, so I won’t be posting much. I’ll be back home on the 18th.

Basette purred when I picked her up during the consultation with her vet this morning. We spoke candidly about the Little Black Wonder Cat(tm): treatment options, outlook, and chances for Basette to have a normal life. She had received regular fluids to flush toxins (side effect of the kidney disease). Her glucose levels, usually stabilized by her healthy eating habits, were spiking and dropping. She didn’t feel because she wasn’t consistently interested in eating. In fact, Basette’s illnesses might never be enough under control so she could come home.

While Dr. Kris and I spoke, we watched Basette walk. She took a few wobbly steps, stopped, and then walked slowly ahead — straight into a wall with a solid thud. After the second time wall-thud, I picked her up again. At first she purred, then squirmed to be put down (and she walked into walls again).

I sat with her for several hours. The vet and I both loved on Basette. The Little Black Wonder Cat(tm) seemed confused, only partially lucid, and in mild pain. I knew it was time, and told the vet so. She nodded, agreed that we had tried everything.

Basette was taken around to the staff so they could say good bye. The vet also spent some time with her. They brought her back in and placed her on a soft lambswool bed. They gave her the first shot so she fell asleep. Her head gradually lowered, eyelids half-closed, and nose buried in the wool. I crossed her legs in front of her, placed her head on them–a posture she frequently used when asleep. I petted her the entire time. They left me alone with Basette for a while, and I said my good byes to a very dear friend.

After a few minutes, Dr Kris came back in and gave Basette the second shot. Slowly, Basette’s breathing stilled and the Little Black Wonder Cat(tm) left this world.

I know in my heart we did the right thing. It doesn’t make it any easier. Every possible route to help her feel better had been explored. I firmly believe that to have kept trying would only have been torturing her.

It is a glorious humid east Tennessee day.

The Little Black Wonder Cat(tm) has made the final trip home. She will be missed by many people.

Especially me.

Sleep well, little Bast.

I visited with Basette for 1.5 hours today.

When I first got there, she purred, stood up in her cage, and walked over to me. Purring so loudly. So happy to see me. She seemed better at first. She cuddled under my chin, purred contentedly. After about 20 minutes, she became uncomfortable and squirmed to be put down. She walked around on the floor a few steps, stop, and wobble on her back legs. She took a few more steps. She didn’t turn her head when I called to her.

I picked her up again. She wasn’t comfortable being held: her tail flicked against me the entire time I held her. Setting her down on the floor, I curled up next to her, petting her lightly. She moved away from touch, which broke my heart. She was always a cuddle kitty. She had never moved away from contact like that.

After a while, the vet came in and talked to me about Basette’s status. My regular vet was off, so I met with another vet at the clinic. He’s been treating Basette when my regular vet is off. Basette had become hypersensitive to the insulin doses, and her glucose levels were dropping sharply and spiking because her eating (which helps regulate gluclose levels) was eradict. My heart sunk in my throat as he explained things.

I knew then that even if she did recover from this episode, the Basette I’ve loved for 14 years really wasn’t around any more. She seemed to have moments of lucidity while I sat with her. When she recognized my voice, she purred; when she didn’t she walked around a little, confused.

My poor kitten. She has been through so much. I don’t think I can put her through much more.

I’ve made an appointment to discuss options with my regular vet tomorrow morning. I’m not sure how things will go. Well, I do. In my heart, I know what needs to be done.

Quick note: the vet called this morning. Basette hasn’t improved. My regular vet wasn’t in today, so she asked another vet to call me. Her glucose levels had dipped low again last night, so she is still responding to the insulin.

I’ll post again after I visit Basette.

Basette spent the day at the vet’s for monitoring. We’d hoped that she would continue to improve Wednesday after bouncing back so thoroughly on Tuesday.

The vet called me this morning. In a long voicemail message, she said that Basette looked worse: lethargic, not interested in eating/drinking, didn’t want to walk around, and generally feeling blah. Why would Basette be worse when her glucose levels were lower and seemed to be finally under control? Just to be safe, we decided to run another blood panel to check kidney and liver functions.

The next voicemail a few hours later was very short. I had a dreadful feeling when I returned her call. The two items that show the kidney is functioning properly (BUN and creatinine) were 2-3 times the normal levels. Basette was diagnosed with renal failure.

We aren’t sure when the kidney disease came up. Basette’s last blood panel in February didn’t show any indications of kidney disease, so it must have developed within the last four months. The symptoms of kidney disease, like excessive water consumption and urination, are similar to diabetes. It’s very possible that the diabetes masked any kidney problems.

To further complicate matters, a diabetes maintenance diet is high in protein and low in carbohydrates and sugar (think low carb diet for cats); renal (kidney) failure diet requires low protein. Treatment options we might have had for diabetes are now much more complex because of the kidney problems.

Prior to the bloodwork, the vet’s outlook was guardedly optimistic, and now it’s not optimistic at all. Things aren’t looking good for Basette. The vet really isn’t sure if Basette will even return to an acceptable quality of life.

I’m going to visit Basette tomorrow. Maybe a pep talk, but right now I don’t know. Poor sweet kitten. She has been through so much.