Feline Aortic Thromboembolism.
That was is what took our cat Trixie from us today. It is a genetic condition in cats that can lead to sudden death or, in the case of Trixie, a clot coming loose that blocks that blocks the flow of blood to the hindquarters.
My wife and daughter came home around lunch today to find Trixie on her side on the floor, meowing in distress, and unable to move her hind legs. They brought her to the emergency vet near our house while I headed over from the office. And while the vet took her immediately, she had been in her paralyzed state for a while. Her paws and hindquarters were cold to the touch, she was in a lot of pain, and the doctor said there was little hope for anything but a very temporary recovery due to the state of her heart. We had to put her down.
She was just a wee thing when her and her brother Fred came to live with us less than six years ago.
Today we had to say good-bye, just a year and a month after her brother Fred passed on. The vet thought it likely that Fred’s sudden death was from the same genetic disposition.
In a house of tall people and big cats, she was a wee little thing, just 8 lbs, with a squeaking, high pitched meow, who would go every place at a trot or a run, and who had to scale every piece of furniture in the house.
In the kitty order of things she was “my cat,” though she was happy to be with everybody in the family. But when she was young, when I got home she would meow at me and jump up on the kitchen table, putting her front paws on the back of a chair to get her just a bit higher, where she would wait until I came over to pick her up. She would then wriggle out of my arms and get up on my shoulders so that she could ride around up there… at least until I got close to something taller, at which point she would jump for that.
She also slept on the bed with us every night, either on my wife’s hip or cuddled up with our 15 year old cat Oscar. She wasn’t much of a lap cat and didn’t like to be held, but she would come over to me at night some times and dig for my hands until I would pet her. Then, in a display of kitty OCD, she would first lick and then lightly nibble the tip of each finger on that hand. After that she would run off.
At the vet we all held her one last time. She was on pain meds and a bit confused, but purring and happy to see us. True to form, she tried to wriggle out of my arms for a bit, no doubt aiming to get on my shoulders once more.
And now it is all tears at our house today. We miss her and her little meows and the sound of her skittering around the house. So many pets over the years, but saying good-bye never gets any easier.
A gallery of Trixie pictures after the cut.