But first, let me back up just a little.
"Hey, I've found the perfect cat for you." My friend Kevin told me this while I was in his cab. I'd met him back when we both drove cab, years ago.
"I already have a cat," I reminded him.
But our old black cat, E.B. White, was fading fast. She had been sick for a while, and was in the middle of quite a few family members who died over a two-year period.
E.B. White
"But you need the kitten," Kevin insisted. He'd even named the kitten Karma.
(To cut this part of the story short, you can read about Karma, Drexie, Osha and E.B. here. The entire part of when Kevin delivered Karma is especially good for a laugh.)
Kevin
Anyway, fast forward to the present. Karma Kitty and Drexie Calabash were a month apart in age, and had both recently turned 15 years old. According to a chart I'd seen, that qualifies them as geriatric cats, as in "forget the numbers, they're very, very old." They were both showing their age, Karma more so than Drexie.
Up until the last year or so, Karma had been twice Drexie's size, starting when they were kittens. When we adopted Drexie, a month after Kevin brought us Karma, he spent the day whooping up on her. This was his house, he'd been here first, how dare she invade his territory. I kept them separated as much as possible.
The next day, I called our vets' office in tears, sure I was going to have to bring Drexie back. Fortunately, the vet tech who answered the phone had quite a menagerie of pets.
"Not to worry," she said over the phone. "I go through this every time I bring a new cat into the house."
She added that it might take up to two weeks for them to work it out, but that it would all be okay.
That afternoon, it did get worked out. Karma went to beat up Drexie again, only this time, she was tired of him being a bully. She reared up on her back legs, as only a tiny kitten can, wrapped her front legs around his head, and rolled onto her side. Of course, Karma had no choice but to roll over, too, at which point, Drexie started kicking his face and head hard with her back paws while biting his ears.
It took Karma a minute to work his way loose, and he backed up, eyeing the smaller cat. Then, on for a second attack, and Drexie did the same thing! By the third round of "I'll-whoop-your-butt-oh-no-you-won't," Karma backed up, eyed Drexie, and decided she could stay.
It took another few days for them to decide to be friends, but after that, they were basically inseparable.
At his heaviest, Karm weighed 12-pounds and change, while Drexie hovered just above six pounds. After a bout of cystitis, when he had to go on a special (read: expensive) diet, he did lose a couple of pounds, but not much. He was still muscular, and was still twice Drexie's size.
Karma Kitty
"I can haz tuna?!" - photo by J. Goff
Drexie
Someone's in the kitchen with Drexie...
I've written about these two time and time again over the years. They've kept life interesting, to put it mildly.
But several months ago, maybe a little longer, Karma really started going down hill. I'd taken Drexie in, as she had some minor aging problems going on. The meds seemed to help, but it did make her gain a little weight. I'd also noticed, during this time, that Karma was losing weight, so I brought him in to see Dr. E. While all the vets who share the office are fantastic (trust me, if you're in Pinellas County, FL and need a vet, leave a comment, and I'll let you know the animal hospital), Dr. E. and Dr. G. got the least amount of static from Karm. At this point, though, I did have to give Karma something to keep his anxiety down a little (i.e. got him zonked out).
Yes, he had lost weight; it turns out, he was having kidney issues, and had to go onto another (more expensive) food, as well as meds.
His weight held (sort-of) for a while, but soon, the weight dropped more and more. When he was seen on June 14, he was below six pounds.
We figured the end was coming sooner or later...
Then, on Thursday, June 23, he really got worse. He didn't want to eat, went to drink some water, then had trouble walking. His front end seemed to be functioning, but his back legs were wobbling like a drunk who'd had way too much to drink. He also threw up the water.
I called the vets' office. Dr. G. could see Karma around noon...
I made sure Karma got tons of snuggles over the next hour or so before bringing him in. Turns out, he'd lost another half-a-pound in just nine days. He was also a little dehydrated, and had developed a heart murmer, which made giving him fluids at the vets' office a little dicey.
After talking with the vet, we decided it would be best for Karma to be put to sleep. Left alone to die on his own, it was probably not more than a couple of days, at most, during which time, he'd be in pain.
I stayed with Karma while he was given a sedative, then cuddled him and told him how much we all loved him, including Drexie. After a few minutes, he recieved another shot, and drifted off.
I must have gone through most of a box of tissues during this time. This was our mini-panther, our Karma.
We had him cremated by himself, so that we now have his ashes in a box in our living room. We also have a paw print, along with some of his fur in a clear bag. (We used to call him our velvet panther.)
The next day, the vets' office sent a small floral arrangement, with a card, something very appreciated. Karma was family.
Drexie obviously misses her big brother, as does everyone else in the house.
Rest in peace, Karma. You were a sweet-heart.
