The End Game
Our kitty cat needed us. We struggled with the decision. But we knew she needed us to make the right one.
We miss her.
ElGee was born in a litter of kittens in an apartment complex where a friend of our youngest daughter lived.
Amanda already owned a young cat named "Baby" when the friend contacted her in an effort to save the kittens.
"I'll take one," our daughter committed to be part of the unorganized rescue. The teeny white male she named McGarnigal.
The even tinier black and white female, that she temporary dubbed 'the little girl', was also delivered to Amanda's apartment. Little Girl had been promised a home by a third friend. The promise was never kept and "Little Girl" became family. Whispers from the first friend indicated the remaining kittens disappeared and she was pretty sure they'd been dumped.
A year passed and another little girl joined the family; my now 16 year old granddaughter Curlymop. Then McGarnigal got out one day, ran into the street, and died instantly in the traffic.
December 2007 brought eviction notices to the entire apartment complex where Amanda lived so Little Girl came to live with us.
We called her L.G. because it was easier to say than Little Girl. On her first veterinarian visit I spelled it "elGee" for no reason I can recall. It has remained elGee for almost 13 years.
The past several years she's been somewhat fragile with the symptoms of kidney disease. You do what you have to do to keep them comfortable and as healthy as possible with the diagnosis. The veterinarian kept close tabs with blood work-ups and physicals.
We noticed some odd behavior recently that didn't seem to jibe with the symptoms of kidney failure. She would stare at the wall or the air vents as though she saw something that put her on edge. Her meow became a harsh rasp and awoke us during the night. I thought she was having some confusion.
Then last week she suffered a violent seizure as my husband and I watched in horror.
Cancer. Tumor. Pressure.
I still thought I couldn't let her go. Maybe a little more comfort and care?
But the veterinarian spoke.
"She's played right up to the end game. You can't ask her for much more than that."
So, we didn't.
Hiding in my closet in her recent confusion. Oh Sweet Kitty.
p.s. Baby, the other cat displaced in 2007, went to live with our eldest daughter. They called her Penelope and she lived until the fall of 2019.