Nearly fifteen years ago, shortly after our apartment burned down and we had moved into a townhouse in Norcross, our neighbor asked a_blue_moon_cat and I if we’d be willing to adopt a couple of kittens. She’d rescued the mother from the parking lot of her workplace, and she had two that she’d been unable to find homes for. We already had two cats at the time, but the kittens were adorable, and we decided to take them on. We named them Tarrant and Dayna, continuing the Blake’s Seven theme our other two cats shared.
When a_blue_moon_cat and I split up a few years later, she kept all four cats, but a couple of years after that asked me if I’d take one of them, as she was about to move and didn’t think she could find a rental that would let her bring in four cats. We agreed to take Dayna.
Dayna was a neurotic cat even by feline standards. Wild-eyed and curious, she loved sounds, and would frequently rattle blinds or scratch the sides of boxes just to hear the sound they made. She was convinced the knowledge of mankind could be hers if only she could eat enough magazines, and any periodical left within her grasp soon looked like it had been attacked by a confetti punch.
She was often shy about attention, but she always liked being near people, if not quite within arms reach. In recent years, and especially since our other cat Jenna passed away she’d become much friendlier, and spent many a night curled up between kitanzi and me while we watched television, and she slept many nights on the bed with us, purring contently to be near.
As we prepared to make the move to Seattle, the question of how best to move Dayna was discussed. She had become older and frailer as her years advanced, and she’d lost some weight recently which concerned us. We took her to the Cat Clinic in Roswell, which had been her vets her entire life, and they checked her over and found some early kidney disease, but otherwise found her to be in good health for a cat her age. They gave her some meds to help with that and to clear up a small infection, and said she should be fine. As we got closer to Thanksgiving, I again raised concern to the vet, and they even did an ultrasound to rule out any early cancers. The vet cleared her for travel, saying our only concern was finding something she liked to eat to get her up to a healthier weight.
She flew back to Seattle with runnerwolf, who would take good care of her and help get her settled into our new home. But it quickly became obvious that she was continuing to fade. Tonight, Beth called me, a couple of hours ago, and said “I don’t think she’s going to last much longer.” We discussed her condition, and I asked her to put the phone down where Dayna could hear me. I said “Dayna….we love you. If you need to go, it’s okay. We understand.” Beth says that when I spoke to her, she flicked her ears a couple of times, and a few moments later peacefully slipped away.
In her last days, as in all her life, she was pampered and loved by those around her. She had a long and full life, and in the end her suffering was minimal. I wasn’t ready for this, and I will miss her more than I have any words for…she’s been a constant presence in my life for 15 years, and you are never really prepared to say goodbye.
Farewell, Dayna-cat. I love you, always.
Oh, no! I’m so sorry. *squashhug*
Many, many hugs.
I am so very very sorry *many big cuddly hugs*
*hugs* and much sympathy to you and yours.
Hugs to you and yours.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m glad you had that chance to talk to her. *hugs*
I’m very sorry. She had a good life, surrounded by people who loved and cared for her.
I’m sorry for your loss.
Oh no. Oh Rob, I’m so sorry. I wish I could hug you.
Damn. I’m sorry, bro 🙁
I’m sorry for your loss.
My condolences and my sympathies.
This made me cry. I’m so sorry, Rob. Please call or text or anything if you need someone to talk to who understands how important cat love is to the heart and how hard it can be for them to be on a different plane. Warm Hugs. Willis, Consuela and Vulva dedicate their purring to you and Larissa today.
I’m so sorry. *hugs*
*hugs* Sorry to hear it.
I’m so sorry to hear this. May her memory always be a blessing.
Thank you for calling me before I read this. She was a quasky kitty--she wanted to get inside my mouth when I sang! And she hated collars. I will never forget her and Tarrant playing with Vila’s tail when they were kittens. 🙂 We’ll see her again, past the Rainbow Bridge. *hugs*
Tarrant is getting extra attention today.
I’m so sorry, sweetie. *hugs*
So sad to lose a pet.
There is really nothing harder than being away from a dying loved one.
I hope you find comfort in her memory and in telling Dayna stories to your friends and loved ones.
((Hugs)) It’s never easy.
I’m so sorry. *hugs*
*lots of hugs* I’m very sorry for your loss.
Ohhh, oh oh oh *tears & hugs* I’m so very sorry.
I’m sorry that you’ve lost a kitty friend. They are very special.
Sorry to hear about Dayna *hugs*.
I am so very sorry. I’m glad you got to talk to her.
Condolences and empathy. I’m glad you were able to give her a wonderful life, and thank you.
*hugs* I’m so sorry.
No matter how much you try to get ready to say goodbye, it never really works. Sorry for your loss, may you keep your memories close and always remember the neurotics and the shredded paper and the cuddles and the love.
Awww. 🙁 I’m so very sorry for your loss. She sounds like she was a wonderful addition to your family for many years and I can certainly understand that you’d miss her. Sending many many hugs …
*HugeHugs* to you and Kitanzi and runnerwolf. It’s always sad to lose one of our kittyfriends, but it’s good that she knew it was okay to go and that you got to say goodbye. Peaceful passings are a blessing.
My extreme condolences. *HUG*
That really sucks, R. I’m sorry.
I am SO sorry 😐 Don’t worry though, the kitty pawprints on your heart will never fade.
Oh sweetie! I’m so sorry. That’s just how Coco went. **hughughug**
Oh, damn. So soon after Jenna, too. Well, of course, it’s always too soon, isn’t it? 🙁 I am so glad runnerwolf thought to call you. And that Dayna got a last chance to hear the voice of one of her humans. A peaceful, seemingly painless passing after 15 years of companionship -- a good life.
Curiously enough, something very similar happened when my mother died. Lois and I went in to the hospital where Mom was lying unconscious. We (mostly I) spoke to her for a little while and told her how much we loved her. And then she stopped breathing. Almost as if she was waiting for me to see her off.
And so with Dayna, it seems. My sorrowful condolences to you and kitanzi on losing a beloved family member. And I really hope I don’t need the above userpic again any time soon.
Uff. Sorry, bubba. (hug)