Floyd,
We all thought you would live forever. In fact, I’m sure as you heard, it was often a joke around here.
You were part dog, part lizard, part cat and knew no bounds as you wildly climbed the curtains, wood doors, kitchen cabinets, closets & screen doors. I know you didn’t give two crumbs that you ruined stuff- and I just know it gave you joy to scratch our furniture more than your own post.
You little bugger such a master of provoking. You made it quite clear that you ruled the house. Did you have to be so hard on our boy Kobi, putting him in place from day one? You know your doggy brother is just a 60 pound big baby, with some excitement and a whine when you block him from using the hallway or protest in front of his food bowl. I know you were here first, and you were my first baby.
When I couldn’t find you, I knew to either search the bathroom closet and there, more often than not, you’d be laying on the towels OR given that you were the most talented escape artist- you’d send my heart racing as I bolted outside to look in the garage or yard. I loved watching you intently watch the birds out the patio door, flapping your tail down eagerly.
I’m sure you have memories of your early life as a feral kitty before you found me that Spring day back in 2006 as I browsed the cats at the shelter. You see, I was just a 20 year old college kid back then in search of my own Garfield cat. I had a few meet and greets that day from other cats but it was you who opened up to me and started chasing the rainbow cat chaser down the hallway & sealed the deal. Whether the volunteer was truthful that day when she said you were depressed and hadn’t reacted to anyone until I got there, or whether that was “her line to everyone,” it didn’t matter. I signed the papers and you came home with me. You were a part of my family and were along for the ride, moving with me from Milwaukee to Green Bay to Neenah…And a few years later to Madison and eventually where we’d end up in Sun Prairie.
Ohhh I know how much you loved to be out, out in the sun, the car, the vet. I’d be amiss if I failed to mention your love for greeting new people and especially running to the front door when you heard my suitcase slamming on the steps as I was returning from a work trip.
The years went on and what was once a quiet house with just me (and then your kitty brother, Jefferson) evolved into a much bigger family as I said “I DO” and we welcomed a crazy puppy and two children into our lives. You lived for the scratchies. You tolerated the commotion well. I’ll never forget your snorting and wreaking havoc by knocking things off our cupboard or desk, just to be a jerk. You sure gave us a run for our money, BUT I also felt so much love you had to give. Floyd, I want to thank you for that! Whether you know or not, you were there for me during the best and worse times of my life; and I’d never met a better listener before you.
I’m going to miss calling your name and seeing you come race right over. I’ll miss your vampire fangs that stuck out of your lips and your stubborn irritated pouts and nudges. I’ll miss that silly tie you wore sometimes just because it made you look “cool!” I’ll miss the rattle of your bell at times when you had a collar. I’ll miss your humping of stuffed animals (WHAT CAT DOES THIS?!) and I’ll miss everything else. I’ll miss the good and the bad- my first baby.
Your absence is also going to be felt by your fur- brother, Jefferson. While the two of you liked your own space, it was always a treat to see you grooming or cuddling each other. There was no doubt a bond between you boys. Then there’s your Dad, spoiling you with his cooking of crab legs. You sure are going to miss his sneezes as much as he is going to miss your sass. Thank you for showing him a lot of love too as our family turned from 3 to 4. And again when we grew from 4 to 5 to 6 with the kids. The littles knew to “watch out” for you with your front claws, but also LOVED to pet you and lay with you. You were so kind to the kids AND quick on your feet when a drooling tot came running after you or tried to get a feel of that no-no zone, your belly.
Last week was the hardest for me. When I brought you to the doctors, I hope for some answers to your weight loss and increased breathing. I secretly hoped the remedy would be some kind of high calorie food, the good stuff! I thought there’s got to be a reason – probably just that you were on strike from the latest canned food and protesting as you’d do. Doc called me to the back office and showed me the x-rays where your lungs were collapsing and operating at 30% – all while your chest was filling with fluid. He wasn’t sure how long you’d have. I remember time stood still as I got the news and the generous doc graciously answered my endless questions (you know me!) and laid out my options. I knew we had to make a decision and that it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was going to be best. I’m sorry for breaking down in the car on that quick drive home. I didn’t want you to see me hurting. After all you gave to me, I wanted to be the one there for you. I knew the kindest thing to do was to make that call the next morning and give you peace. I really enjoyed our last day together and thank you for letting me sleep on the living room floor next to you; I didn’t want to see you suffer and that’s why I stayed up all night on “watch patrol” over your skinny little black body.
The next morning my heart literally broke into a million pieces when I confirmed the Doc would be coming over to the house at 2:00. Your dad brought your favorite- Culver’s vanilla ice cream it made you so happy, which made me happy! I loved that you chased the rainbow cat chaser playfully in your last few hours, showing me your spunk one last time. It brought back memories from that first day when I met you at the shelter and I knew you had lived a happy life. It was so hard to see your body fail when your mind wasn’t ready.
I will find comfort knowing you are at peace, and that I was there holding you in my arms for your final breath. I love you and look forward to seeing you again someday at the Rainbow Bridge.
Run Free Sweet Boy.
Love, Mom
I want to thank Dr. Christine Nelson with Journey’s Pet in Madison for coming to our house to send off Floyd to the rainbow bridge; her caring and compassion in the process was outstanding. I want to thank Dr. Vitale at Sun Prairie Pet Clinic for his expertise and compassion during Floyd’s final visit and diagnosis. I can’t begin to express my gratitude to you both during one of the most difficult days and I will always remember the kindness you showed.
I also want to thank our friends and family who have shared condolences with us this week – It’s been wonderful to be surrounded by such love!!
From: Meghan Hasse
Sun Prairie, WI