Theodore (Teddy)

May 03, 2016  •  Leave a Comment

This is Teddy a few days before he passed away. He wasn't feeling well, but he sure loved his romps through the yard.

 

We fostered Theodore for 3 years. He was our little Teddy Bear.  The shelter that CAWS rescued him from named him Teddy because he loved teddy bears. We didn't learn that till after he passed away.

He was older when we brought him home, about 17 years.  He was on thyroid meds soon after. He was really crabby and swatted and scratched us.

He loved our daughter though. She was 8 years old at the time. Initially my husband was worried that he'd scratch her, bite her. But he never did.

As time passed he decided that we were okay after all. He was still a crab, just not as intent on actually doing harm. He was just warning us that he only wanted as many head rubs as he wanted and we'd better stop the second he was tired of it.

We sure grew to love him. I checked up on him multiple times a day. I worried about him, his health, his struggle with weight loss. I bathed him when he stopped grooming himself. As much as he hated baths he tolerated them and put up with me drying him so he wouldn't get chilled. I loved to brush him, gently. He allowed it for a bit. I adored how soft his fur was. How white his paws were. He had this way of hanging his head and looking at me that always made me wonder what he was thinking. How desperately I wanted to hug him! But I knew he'd say no if I tried. About 45 minutes before he died he laid on my chest, his head tucked tightly under my chin because pressing his head was something he needed to do since the stroke. It was the hug I had always wanted, although I wish he hadn't been so sick. We got about ten minutes of hugging before the vet came in. After she checked him she said he needed fluids and as she walked toward the door with him, Teddy and I looked at each other. I didn't have to wonder what he was thinking. He wanted to feel better, and he wanted me to take him home.

A few days before we took him to the vet he changed over night. He stopped meowing almost completely.  He started pacing in circles. Stopped eating, drinking, using the liter box, and he was pressing his head into the wall. I suspected a stroke. I got him into the vet and the vet agreed that a stroke seemed likely. I left him there that morning fully expecting to see him again. I had read that cats can recover from strokes much better than humans. Before I even made it home though, the vet called and said he had taken his last breath soon after I left. I pulled over and got myself together so I could make the drive back there, pick him up, and leave without breaking down. I somehow made it.

I buried him in a really nice spot in my yard. He's not here though. I feel him in the house in his favorite bedroom. I'm sure he's often running through the acres of farm land at the back of my house.

Thank you for the hug, little man.

We sure miss you.

:-(

 


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