In Memoriam: Vicky the kitty 1999-2015

Vicky is the kitty on the right, sitting with her pal, Tigger.

Sad to say, but I had Vicky put down yesterday afternoon. She was such a good girl, and I miss her already.

She was born under the deck of the next door neighbor back in '99. We lived in town back then, and Tigger had a friend who was a stray cat we called Skank. Tigger was about 6 months old, and would jump in and out of the house via the kitchen door. There was a window missing on the bottom pane about 3' off the ground that I had not gotten around to fixing by then.

So Tigger and Skank would jump in and out of the house, grab food and wander the neighborhood together. One Saturday Skank was acting oddly; jumping in and out repeatedly. I went to see what was going on and lying there in front of the door on the outside with this little black furry jelly bean...Vicky. I followed Skank around for a bit and found her birthing place under the deck, grabbed the remaining survivor..another black jelly bean...and brought them into the house.  For the next few months, she jumped in and out while we kept her babies for her. We named them Ricky and Vicky. Ricky got given away but Vicky stayed.

As she grew, we noticed she was a VERY neurotic kitty. She didn't like to be picked up. She didn't like to be held. She skittled under the couch at any loud noise. I reasoned that living the first few days under a deck would make that happen. Boots clomping around overhead while you're trying to nurse would do that. So we let her be ...Vicky. Neurotic...sometimes invisible, but a part of the family.  When we moved in 2006, we stashed her in with a VERY dirty Tigger who had gotten out and was found in a swampy area. As soon as we got her here, she dashed under the loveseat and spent the next 3 years there. Occasionally she would come out and I would know she was fine.

Tigger and her were best buds. The two would sleep, fight and eat together. In the last few years, Vicky has ventured out of her hiding spot and become a very friendly kitty. She loved to sit with Daddy at night curled up on his legs in the recliner while Daddy read.  She would only do that if he had a blanket covering his legs, we never did figure out why.

When Tyler entered the realm, Vicky would fight with him regularly. We would know who won by who got to sleep with us upstairs at night. Vicky would prefer curling up on my hip.

She became our most prolific mouser. She caught and killed about 4 mice over her lifetime..which is 4 mice more than the boys!

The night before last, she jumped up on the foot of Dave's recliner and I noticed a smell...awful smell like some bad gas. Didn't think much of it until she got closer to me. Then I noticed it was her. Conversation ensued, and Dave and I bundled her up and took her to the bathroom where the best lighting is in the house. At 10 pm, Dave held her while I searched her for the cause of the smell. It turned out to be a big hole in her mouth. I rinsed her with some antibiotic laced water, gave her a dose of antibiotics and fell into a fitful sleep.

Yesterday, after finally finding her, I looked into her mouth again to give her another dose of antibiotics + rinse. The erosion was much worse and I did my best to rinse it and give her some antibiotics. I called the vet, and thought about it. My thoughts continually went to the worst possible scenario: Cancer. Whatever this is came on too fast, eroded what seemed to be a healthy mouth too fast and laid her low too fast to be a normal infection. I emailed Dave told him my fears and we decided that if were the case to have her put to sleep.

The vet did a thorough examination, and I withheld my suspicions. She was such a good girl through the whole thing that I bet those ladies thought I was kidding about her being such a neurotic kitty. I held her as best I could on the table while the Vet confirmed it was cancer. Only then did I admit that I had suspected it to be cancer as well. We discussed treatments; one MAY have given her another month, but she's old and it was pretty advanced. I told her to put her to sleep.

Vicky's last photo taken at the vet. She looks scared and sad. 

I stayed with her, petting her and telling her what a good girl she was, and how it was OK for her to go. She went as peacefully as we could make it. I had a cotton scarf that I put over the pet carrier to keep her calm that became her shroud. I took her home, laid her in state on the front room couch until Dave came home. I knew he wanted to say goodbye to his girl.

She's buried out by Sissy the goose, in the tall grass on the berm. A place where no one will disturb her and she will rest well. Right now, it is marked with a tree trunk. I'll get her a proper marker when I find one that's fitting.

RIP Vicky...you were a good girl.