Early Monday morning, Kate and I had to say goodbye to Pixy, a cat we've had for two years. She was about six or seven years when we adopted her, so she sadly only lived eight or nine years. A few months ago we felt a lump towards her left back leg so we took her in to our vet and they did a biopsy and told us she had a malignant tumor. The tumor was so advanced in her system that the odds of a successful surgery to remove it weren't very good and she would have needed a lot of chemo. So we decided that rather than put Pixy through all of that pain, we decided that we'd just try to make her time with us as comfortable as possible for her.
Pixy had been shaved where they did the biopsy on her tumor and she had to get periodic deep cleanings of her wound (in addition to the daily cleanings of the wound that Kate gave her) and she had to wear a cone all the time so that she wouldn't lick or bite that area. We were also given an antibiotic that we had to give her daily and some pain medication, of which she was resistant to no matter what form they were given in. Up until this past week, we (mostly Kate, while I held her) were mostly successful in making her take her antibiotic and pain medication and she ate some food, even though not with as much zeal as when she was healthy. This past week though, Pixy totally resisted our efforts to give her her medication, just throwing it up and ate very very little, tried to just lay in hiding places, and wasn't very responsive at all. When I would pick her up to help Kate try to give her the medicine, she was so frail that I thought she would break.
Pixy, like Malificent, our white haired cat that died over two years ago, was a cat that would have liked to have been an only cat, as she didn't like other animals, but she liked people.
Although Pixy liked people, she mostly just kept to herself and wasn't usually a lap kitty, nor would she hang out in our bedroom or bed while we slept like our other two cats do. So it was a treat for us when Pixy would come up to Kate and myself as she did her in this photo and the one below.
Actually, the last few months of her life, Pixie became more affectionate and would fairly regularly have some quality time with me, so her being gone is harder because it seems like we were becoming better buddies.
This is one of Kate and my favorite photos of Pixy - we call it: "Pixy's ready for her close up." Before Pixy's tumor, she was a champion eater. Our cats have a little bowl of dry food upstairs and downstairs that they can nibble on throughout the day, but once in the morning and at night when we get home, they each get a little plate of a portion of wet canned food. That was the favorite part of Pixy's day and before the tumor just diminished her strength and appetite, she would wolf down her wet food and muscle in on what our other two cats didn't finish of theirs. I'll miss Pixy allowing us to be in her presence and watching her take lounging around to new heights.
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