We had to say good-bye to one of the ElderCats on Saturday. Miss Ginger (aka Binger, aka Boogie) just couldn’t fight the cancer any longer. She had stopped eating and drinking, and while she would move from room to room, she was not a happy kitty. She was 13, so she had a good life span, and was, like all our cats, quite loved and spoiled.
Ginger was one of the five kittens born to our adopted stray, Jasmine, on August 4, 2004. We kept Jasmine and two of the kittens. We lost our MamaCat in early summer of this year to abdominal cancer. Ginger’s started in her mammary glands (we think) but had metastasized to her lungs. I took her in earlier in October to have the tumors that were now showing on her belly looked at. She was already getting fussy about eating at that point. The doctor said the tumors could be removed, but she needed to gain back some weight before surgery would be a viable option. So, I took her home to try and get her eating again. She seemed to rally for a couple days and was eating better, but that didn’t last. I took her back last week and she hadn’t lost a lot more, but losing is never good in these cases. We did bloodwork and an x-ray, and the doctor said he should have results by Thursday. I didn’t hear from them, but by Friday morning, we knew it wasn’t going to matter what the tests said. Ginger had given up fighting. So I called to make the appointment. About an hour later, the doctor called me. I thought that was a nice touch. Some might have just let it go until we brought her in. The x-ray showed definite cancer in the lungs, and more advanced than originally suspected. Bloodwork showed an infection, but he felt even treating that wouldn’t buy her much since the lungs were so badly affected.
I sat with her for a while Friday night, and again on Saturday before we took her in. She always had the biggest, loudest purr you can imagine. I figured she decided on the V8 purr engine, but I think that took up so much room, she couldn’t fit in a decent meow. Half the time, she’d open her mouth and no sound would come out, or it was just a tiny squeak. She would often curl up on top of the sofa next to the BaldMan’s ear, and he sometimes had a hard time hearing the TV over that purr! When it stopped on Saturday morning, the silence was so profound, at least to me.
Rest well, Ginger. I will miss that monster purr of yours, and the way you’d push your head into my hand for head scritches.
(The featured picture is when she was just a wee bit of a kitten. She was fascinated by the fish in that aquarium. The other one is her as an all growed-up cat.)
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