My cat Tika has passed on. She was only 7 years old (That's 51 in cat years I believe). She was probably my best friend in the world, maybe it's because she couldn't sass back, heh. She loved me unconditionally, and asked me for nothing more than a pat on the head and a spot in my lap (which I must honestly admit I didn't seem to give her enough of).
we're not entirely sure how she got sick, but this morning she came in and wouldn't move, at all. We took her into the vet, and the vet suggested she might have an infection, and pumped her full of antibiotics. She said that nine times out of ten, this usually makes them better. I guess Tika was the tenth. She went into anapeleptic (sp?) shock, followed by a seizure. I held her one last time before taking her in and told her that I loved her and I was sorry that I couldn't make her better.
The doctors tried to save her, but when they told me they wouldn't say she was going to be ok, I pretty much knew she wasn't going to be OK. I told her " See you later kitty bebe." Before leaving.
Two hours later, they called me to inform me she had died. When I went to go get her, the box they had placed her in still seemed warm to me. I brought her home, and prepared to bury her. Even in death, I joked. " Jesus cat. You're heavy when you're dead."
We laid her to rest next to my mother's dog, whom passed on last year of kidney failure, and whom Tika adored. She often groomed him as if he were her kitten.
God speed little one.
