Farwell Stitch

Saying goodbye is never easy...

“Yes, we are here to see Altaire.” Those were the words I said to the attendant at APL on the Sunday afternoon before Thanksgiving in 2012.

Altaire had been a pet of the week that I had fallen in love with. For those of you who know me- that was a common occurrence. However, Altaire being the absolutely beautiful cat that he was, had been adopted 10 minutes before we walked through the door.

So my husband and I decided to go see who else needed a home. Keep in mind that we already had 5 cats at home and really didn’t need any more cats. But then we saw this brown tabby kitten who was absolutely ferocious in an adorable way. He was chasing toys and climbed my husband’s leg at least once. He was playing with a yellow tiger kitten, but ultimately we decided to adopt him and his sister.

They came to us named Bernard and Beatrice, but, after a long family discussion, they were renamed Lilo and Stitch by my daughter. They were absolute delights as kittens- playing with anyone who would play back. This did not include our cat Oreo, who took it upon herself to remind them she was the ultimate ruler, and all must abide by her rule.

However, kittens grow. And in Lilo & Stitch’s case, grow and grow and grow. Once Stitch hit about the 15-pound mark, he decided he should be in charge- and he was from that day forward.

He was a generally happy cat and benevolent ruler. He had a purr that sounded like a diesel engine, and he used it often. He loved chasing the moths that were foolish enough to come in the house whenever we let the dogs in or out. He enjoyed playing with toys and had a mad crush on Martini. He also loved getting in the shower with me… not sure why but he really liked that.

He grew into an utterly massive boy tipping the scales at 18+ pounds. Other than the occasional sniffles, remnants of an upper respiratory infection he had as a kitten, he was a happy, healthy boy with bright eyes and an irritating habit of hanging out on top of the cabinets.

All of that changed profoundly Thursday evening. It started off innocently enough. Stitch didn’t come up for his dinner. Not completely unheard of. I have crunchies down, and if he doesn’t like the particular flavor of canned food being offered, he was known to skip a meal. But then he didn’t come up out of the basement for breakfast Friday morning. Then he really didn’t want to be around anyone.

So we put him in a spare room where we could monitor his food and water intake closely. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t drinking. He looked exceptionally bloated – even for his rather large, curvaceous size. He also wasn’t going potty.

So off to the vet we went this morning. I was fully expecting to hear that he was terribly constipated and needed a little help clearing things out – so to speak. What I was NOT expecting to hear was that he had advanced lymphoma. His white blood cell count was at 40,000- so off the charts. His kidneys and liver were showing signs of shutting down. The bloating was a result of fluid gathering in his abdominal cavity around the organs.

So today, we sent Stitch on his journey across the rainbow bridge. When he gets to the other side, he will be reunited with Tinker and Gypsy, along with Freddie and Meeka. Plus, he will get the chance to meet all of the other critters who have been part of our family.

The house is oddly quiet without his rumbly purr and a little darker without his bright eyes. Godspeed Stitch- at just 8 years old, you were gone way before your time.