This week has been a difficult one for us.  Our good friend Slinky the cat is gone.   She started to slow down at the beginning of the year, and started fading fast  recently.  She was diagnosed with diabetes and we put her on insulin shots and a special diet, which helped for a few weeks, but we could feel her slipping away.  This past weekend out on Shelter Island was her last, as she hobbled over to my parents house several times in a state of dementia, then slunk off into the woods.  I was sure she was looking for a place to lie down for the last time, and we didn't want to lose her that way.  We brought her home, and made the difficult decision to end her suffering.  So we said our goodbyes and yesterday we took her to the vet for her last trip.  It was one of the saddest days of our lives, but it was the right thing to do, and a relief to let her finally rest, despite our deep sadness at our loss.

Slinky was Craig and My first "child" from when we were still in college, before we were married.  She was a faithful companion and friend, a loving cuddly sidekick and a pain in the ass--all things a cat is supposed to be.   We picked her out of a tiny litter of 2 kittens from Craig's parents farm in Cato, NY, before they moved to FL.  She stood out as one of two gray kittens in a herd of inbred calico cats at the farm.  Her mama was a wild smoky gray cat, and Slinky's little white tuxedo left us no doubt that "Mr. Tux"--a hefty bruiser of a farm cat in black and white, tough on the outside but a softie at heart--was her daddy.  She was small, wild, tough and ultimately, cuddly--Craig had to chase her down and catch her so we could take her home that spring.  She never lost that little bit of wild cat mentality until the last few weeks of her life.  She never got close to strangers but she was a constant companion, cuddler and furry friend to our family--even to the point of being really patient with the kids who were not nearly as gentle as they should have been--for the 18 years we were allowed to enjoy with her. 

Slinky was part dog.  If you couldn't find her, all you had to do was whistle and she'd come running.  She loved to play fetch with crumpled up paper  balls and would get so excited you'd think her head would fly off if she heard the sound of paper being crushed up in your hands.  She was a pain in the ass like all cats should be, waking me up at all hours of the night to go out, then come in, peeing in places she shouldn't (on purpose), scratching and biting vet techs (and us) now and then.  She survived being hit by a car at a young age, and ended up with a funny parylized tail that flopped around for the rest of her life.  When we lived in the country, she was a fabulous hunter, leaving us a constant array of mouse and vole heads and innards on our sidewalk as presents.  She even caught a weasel and a bat--quite the trophies!  And of course we'll never forget the time she brought a live mouse inside and let it go.  She never did understand why we didn't appreciate THAT present...

Slinky was a snowbird when we were; traveling with us to Florida every winter for a few years, after which she made a surprisingly easy transition to suburbia and never complained despite having to be a house cat for a few years until we bought our house on a quiet dead end street.  When allowed to go outside again, she stuck close to home, always preferring to be out when we were in the yard and just for an hour or two each summer night to prowl and do what cats do...

We miss her everywhere.  The irony of having a pet is the little things, and the things that were annoying and that I cussed her out about are the places I now miss her most.  Lying in bed I missed the feel of her four paws walking across and weighing heavily on my butt as I try to sleep.  I miss the howling to come inside (and go out again) at 4am.  I miss playing fetch.  I miss her biting my ankles as I walked by.  I miss her meowing for food only to eat one kibble and walk away.  I miss catching her sitting in the bath tub drinking the drips of water (I guess we'll have to fix that leak now), and I am so sad to have to wipe up her last trail of footprints from the bathroom and have not been able to bring myself to do it yet.

Goodbye old friend. It was hard to let you go, but we know it was your time and your spunky spirit needed to move on.  We miss you so much already.  Things will not be the same around here without you.  Say hello to Mr. Tux, and catch a mouse for  us...