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Last night our cat Spencer died. It happened very sudden, very quickly, but not without warning - a month ago he had two severe epileptic attacks, out of the blue. After that, he was like a zombie for two days and we'd almost given up hope for him back then, but he responded great to his meds and for the past four weeks, he's been back to his old self. But we'd been forewarned, and I took every moment with him as the gift that it was.
We had ten great years with him. His death was very sudden and quick. We think it might've been a stroke. Doesn't really matter. It took less than a minute and I don't think he suffered. There's a lot to be grateful for. And we still have little Tinka, his litter mate, who's also a darling.
I just miss him so much. The house feels empty.
I'll miss his many little quirks... he wasn't a great mice hunter, but he'd bring home dry leaves...always announcing it with that loud cry that cats use when they want to warn of dangerous prey. (And he did catch a mouse every once in a while, and then usually let them loose in the house.) He loved to hunt moths. He invented a game, Spencerball, which mainly consisted of him lying more or less gracefully on a chair and kicking at stuff we threw at him.
His health has never been robust, but he had such a great character. I loved that cat. I know pictures can't convey much, but here are a few pics from my harddrive.
worshiping the heater
he'd usually come when we watched tv, and lie on someone's lap.
here's one where he's very young, still not fully grown
the two of them, hanging out on my bed.
And here's a sketch of him sleeping right next to me while I was sitting on the bed, drawing. He hung out there a lot, we were always competing for the prime spot next to the heater and he kept me company while I worked. I miss that most of all.
We had ten great years with him. His death was very sudden and quick. We think it might've been a stroke. Doesn't really matter. It took less than a minute and I don't think he suffered. There's a lot to be grateful for. And we still have little Tinka, his litter mate, who's also a darling.
I just miss him so much. The house feels empty.
I'll miss his many little quirks... he wasn't a great mice hunter, but he'd bring home dry leaves...always announcing it with that loud cry that cats use when they want to warn of dangerous prey. (And he did catch a mouse every once in a while, and then usually let them loose in the house.) He loved to hunt moths. He invented a game, Spencerball, which mainly consisted of him lying more or less gracefully on a chair and kicking at stuff we threw at him.
His health has never been robust, but he had such a great character. I loved that cat. I know pictures can't convey much, but here are a few pics from my harddrive.
worshiping the heater
he'd usually come when we watched tv, and lie on someone's lap.
here's one where he's very young, still not fully grown
the two of them, hanging out on my bed.
And here's a sketch of him sleeping right next to me while I was sitting on the bed, drawing. He hung out there a lot, we were always competing for the prime spot next to the heater and he kept me company while I worked. I miss that most of all.