It is with heavy heart that I compose this blog post. Dudio, A.K.A Dude, our beloved hospice kitty, has died. This was not at all unexpected, but there was still quite an emotional release for our family.
We adopted Dude from the Dumb Friends League in Denver, Colorado in September of 2004. He was 4.5 years old at the time that we adopted him. His microchip address was a Hawaii address. His owners relinquished him to the shelter. I don't know the exact reason for their decision, but I expect that they had already become aware of his impending health issues. While we were browsing the glassed in kennels, trying to decide which cat to take home with us, Dude stood with his front paws against the glass and meowed at us. We decided to visit with him for awhile. They put us into a little private room with him, and we discovered that he was a very sweet cat with an affectionate personality. We adopted him that day, along with his "sister", 4 month old Tabatha. Tabatha is still with us today.
My favorite memories of Dude have to do with the comfort that he provided me when I was at my sickest during my pregnancy with Analese. I almost didn't post this next picture because I know I look like death warmed over, but just look at the love that Dude is giving me. This picture was taken in my first trimester of pregnancy. I could barely keep any food down. I was dehydrated, and had to have IV fluids on several occasions. I could really do nothing but lay on the couch. Dude sensed how badly I felt, and tried in his own sweet kitty way to comfort me.
Here I am in my third trimester of pregnancy. I'm feeling better than the first trimester, although still having more than my fair share of puking. Dude is still ever loyal, resting his paws on my big belly.
During all of this time period, Dude was suffering from plasmocytic/lymphocytic stomatitis/gingivitis complex. To make a long story less complicated, he had an auto-immune disease. We were able to extend his life somewhat by having most of his teeth extracted. He was on various medications and therapies, but we never found anything that 100% helped him. He cycled on and off prednisone his whole life. His life was such a struggle. He was really declining health wise when we made the move from Colorado to Texas in 2008. Shortly after we moved into our house here, we were hit by Hurricane Ike. I was able to bring Tabatha into the house before the hurricane hit, but I was not able to find Dude. Of course, I was worried sick, but after a couple of weeks, I reasoned that he had surely just gone off and died. Imagine my surprise on October 30th of 2008 (9 weeks after he went missing during the hurricane) when a lady and her daughter show up and my door asking me if I have a cat. Our address was on his collar tag, and they came to our house! He was skittish for them, so we went to their house about a mile away from ours and loaded Dude into our car and brought him back home, where he lived almost 3 more years, miraculously. Here is a pic of him on the day of our reunion.
We took him to the vet. He did need antibiotics and more prednisone. There was little they could do for him that did not involve great risk. We made the decision to just keep him comfortable. Really, at that time I considered that he was a hospice kitty. I did not know that the hospice would last for almost three years.
I did not take photos of him at the end of his life. He was skin and bones and .....just sad looking. He was incontinent, with bloody stools, so his days of coming into the house were over. He was well sheltered in our garage with a comfortable bed. I did not want to have him put to sleep unless he seemed to be in great physical pain. He still enjoyed being petted and he still became excited when I opened a can of Fancy Feast, so I continued with the hospice care.
The past week, however, he seemed to really decline. I could just tell. He had chosen a new spot on our deck up next to the house to nap. He seemed to be very lethargic. I knew that the end was near. When I could not find him on Thursday night, I thought he must have wandered off to die. That night I prayed a fervent prayer for God to take care of Dude if we was out there somewhere, and for Him to let me know, somehow, if he was dead. I needed closure. After all, he had been missing for nine weeks after the hurricane and I had thought he was dead then. I really, really needed closure. So, Friday morning I checked for him. I knew when I did not hear the jingle of his collar in the garage that I would not be finding him alive. I went out the back door and found him on the porch up next to the house, in his newly discovered napping spot. His head was on his paw and he was laying on his side. He was gone. I had closure, but losing a pet is hard. I'm sure it is somewhat easier when it is expected, but it still hurts.
I will end this post with some photos of Dude in the prime of his life. These photos were taken before his health took a sharp decline. He was a precious cat, and I thank God for letting me care for him. It was not easy, and I hope I never have a sick pet like that again. But I am so glad that he was a part of my life.
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