cats | Will Newcomb's Witterings

A last farewell to my darling Latte, nearly 8 years old.

Some last waking moments together. I love you Tei Tei.

The last 4 or 5 years I’ve been even more devoted to our British Shorthair Latte. He went by many names, Tei Tei, Chubbies and Chub Chubs.

He had a difficult life, being born with a problem with his rear hips making it very difficult for him to walk. Then at the age of 2 the vet suggested a big double hip operation, TO REMOVE HIS REAR HIPS! As predicted by the vet, this miraculously restored much of his walking and much of his mobility. While he never ran again, he was able to walk without his back legs sliding out sideways, and after a little while was even able to climb onto our bed and the sofa. We were so delighted that he could enjoy a more normal life again.

Then tragedy struck again. About a year later, after climbing onto the sofa, he fell off and hit his head hard against the coffee table. He immediately went into a spasm which lasted a couple of hours. While that disappeared, he lost forever his ability to walk or climb. So for the last 5 years Daddy has been his legs every few hours. Some things need regular attention! Day and night.

But I resolved I would do my best to make sure he knew he was loved and could have every need attended to. After his big operation a year earlier the vet had warned us that his natural life span would be foreshortened. I resolved to make every day as special for him as I could.

For a couple of years, lifts too and from the litter tray were normal together with lifts to the place where we fed him, and where we gave him his after breakfast treats. He so looked forward to those. After finishing his chicken and soup he would look up earnestly at his daddy to say, “Where’s my bread”.

So I’d pick him up and take him to the balcony where Yvonne and I were supping our espressos, and Tei Tei would eagerly consume his slice of bread.

A couple of years ago, at this time of year, he contracted a cold and stopped eating and drinking. Not even his beloved bread treats. But daddy would chop up some of his chicken extra fine, put it in a bottle together with some of the chicken soup, and feed him manually, pouring it down his throat. While it was uncomfortable and he didn’t enjoy it, it kept him alive. After about 6 weeks he grew a little stronger and his appetite returned. Daddy was so overjoyed!!!

But then a week or 10 days ago, he suffered an injury to his leg. Daddy was trimming some of the hairs on him tummy which had become congealed with poo, and couldn’t be washed off, daddy trimmed a bit too close to his leg and nicked his skin. He didn’t appear to be in pain, and daddy made sure it was disinfected with iodine every day.

But then on Saturday he stopped eating again. Still drinking water from the fountain, but not eating. So daddy started back on the finely chopped chicked and soup in a bottle routine. He took it, but was becoming noticeably weaker, and the wound on his leg appeared to become infected despite the washing with iodine. He was obviously uncomfortable yesterday, but today was crying in pain if I picked him up. Even after feeding him back on his bed.

Yvonne and I realised that this was not recovereable. So we took him to see the vet downstairs who agreed. So weak and in pain, we said our last goodbyes in tears. Lord, I had dreaded this moment for years. I had endlessly prayed for him to have a long life despite the vet’s warning. Every night after his evening meal I’d give him a full body massage, both with my hands and also with a head massager. He loved both of these. And I’d pray. But it was time for him to leave us.

We left him around 10:30 this morning.

Though we still have 6 other gorgeous cats that we love to the moon and back, the house feels so empty without him. I look around for him, to see if he’s OK. If he needs his sanitary paper replacing. But he’s not there. His bed’s not there. There are spaces where he should be.

I miss my darling Chub Chubs so much.

It hurts so much and I feel so empty and numb inside.

I turn to our other babies but they don’t understand (I think) why daddy is so sad.

He’s not the first we’ve lost. There was Billy Boy back in 2014 at only 8 months old. Then suddenly Miss Gege had a heart attack about 2 years ago, and despite getting her down to the vet downstairs within 5 minutes he could not revive her. I remember carrying her to the vet and she stopped stuggling the moment we opened the surgery door. The two vets immediately went to work on her with heart compressions, oxygen, and adrenaline. But after half any hour we all realised it was now too late.

And now another.

And in due time there will be more, but we pray not for a long time and we’ll celebrate every day with them, as I did with Chubbies.

Here’s a Flick album together with some special moments that we’ve had together over the last 8 years.

Last moments with this darling boy — Too many photos of the boy!!!

Today around 12:30 p.m. we lost our Gege. In Chinese, 格格，a Manchu for Princess.

I feel desperate to hang on to her and am afraid of forgetting some of the special memories we have of her. Hence this blog.

She came to us in March 2019. A British Shorthair breeder was closing down and we adopted her at about 1.5 years old. She was shy and had a hard time integrating with our other 4. 2 were very gentle but the other two had fights with her quite regularly, but they did diminish. Just yesterday I remarked to Yvonne that Gege was eating her dinner and Yoda came up and sniffed her instead of biting her. He once drew blood; quite a nasty gash actually.

When she arrived she spent the first week in one of the toilets, as recommended by cat specialists to allow the others to get used to her smell etc. I would often lie on the floor and talk to her so that she’d get used to my voice and feel safe.

From instructions from the breeder we knew she had a problem of not drinking enough so I bottle fed her water 3 times a day to make sure she was sufficiently hydrated. Probably around. 18 months ago she developed a UTI and was bleeding in her pee. For a couple of weeks we had to give her some antibiotics – a difficult process as every cat owner will tell you, and up the bottle feeding which had become somewhat irregular.

While she never liked being bottle fed water, she accepted it. She didn’t struggle as she normally would if I picked her up. At the end she’d quickly jump down, but not run away. She’d still let me stroke her. But, often she’d hide to stop me from giving her her essential drink. She didn’t like being removed from her hiding places, but settled down once on my lap. Behind the living room a-c unit was a favourite place, and somewhere she knew the other two couldn’t get her!!!

She wasn’t much of a lap cat, but there were a couple of times when she jumped onto my lap as we were sitting on the balcony and would start ‘making biscuits’!

She was also very friendly at bed time. She would come and sleep beside me, and would like to be stroked. In the morning she’d talk a little to me, and gently touch my chin with her paw. When I sat up, she’d touch my leg with her paw and meow. She only did that in the morning.

While she was shy, she wasn’t like Yoda who goes and hides in the wardrobe if we have visitors. But often she’d go and sleep on our bed during the day, or beside the bed. I think she felt a little safer there from Yoda or Chili.

We had no inkling that she might be ill. Our Chubbies, who lost the use of his back legs over a year ago after another couple of years of difficulty walking and after a major operation, has for 3 years now been on borrowed time according to the vet. But he’s still healthy, loves his morning treats, daily massages, coat combing (he has a really thick coat and sheds tons of fur), and has learned to tell daddy when he needs something. So it’s been a huge shock that the younger Gege shed her mortal coil before him.

Yes she had her habits which weren’t appreciated: taking pees a nod poos in the shower room, but nothing we couldn’t cope with. I can’t remember her vomiting at all, unlike Mr Jack.

Our Princess was a truly beautiful girl.

A Flick Tribute Album

I’m sure we’ll remember her daily just as we did when Billy Boy died. For months, we would recall him on Sunday evenings at 18:00; the time he slipped away at the vets. Now Thursday lunchtimes will be a memorial time too.

Someone on the Cole and Marmelade memorial page on Facebook kindly appended this poem and our photo which are particularly meaningful.