It’s been a tough year for pets and it saddens me to write yet another pet obituary post, but we had to say good-bye to another member of the Dragonfire family this week. Our kitty Georgie had been a member of our family since the early days of our marriage and he was definitely my favorite cat.
We adopted him in the Fall of 1997 as a tiny kitten. T was working in downtown San Francisco, where the local Humane Society brilliantly brings “highly adoptable” pets to office building lobbies. So, I get this call from T asking me what I thought about adopting a kitten (it may have been something closer to “the cutest kitten in the world!”) We were planning to go up to Oregon for the holidays, so I needed him to confirm he was old enough to fly, if it came to that. He happily complied and I came home to this little bundle of ridiculousness.
We drove him up to Oregon for Christmas, where he made a spectacle of himself:
He was a pretty rambunctious kitten. (Is there any other kind?) Guests in our home would be treated to punctured air mattresses and Georgie “sharing” his favorite toys in the middle of the night. When we could close off the guests, he’d rattle their doors. On the first Thanksgiving after T and I got married, (where we were hosting two sets of parents) he licked the pumpkin pie. Since I didn’t have the time or supplies to make another one, I had to scoop out a big hole around the cat licked part and fill it with whipped cream. He was a naughty but super sweet kitty.
At first, it was just George and Dewdrop. Dewdrop wanted nothing to do with George, despite his overtures of friendship. It wasn’t until Godiva joined the family two years later that he had a buddy. They were pretty cute together:
Throughout our time with him, George was good at rolling with the punches. He drove from the Pacific Northwest to California multiple times and then to New York and back. He lived in eight different houses/apartments in his sixteen years of life. Not even two silly dogs bothered him.
But in the last couple of weeks, he’d been losing weight and just wasn’t his usual perky self. We took him to the doctor to run some tests and learned that he had a tumor on his adrenal gland and some sort of blockage near his bile duct. Both things would require invasive, high-risk surgery to address, so we opted to enjoy his company as long as we could. Basically, as long as he was still eating voraciously, we were doing okay. Then on Wednesday night, when T was out of town on a business trip, he stopped eating with the same amount of enthusiasm and spent a lot of time laying in the bathroom, so I knew we were close. We scheduled an appointment to put him to sleep on Friday.
He was still not really eating on Thursday and very listless. When I came home from work, he didn’t greet me at the door like he usually did and I was really worried about him. I petted him and gave him some tuna, which he actually ate. Then I had to go pick T up from the airport. When we came home, he spent a little time petting George and then we chilled out in the living room for a little while. I went in to take a bath an hour later and he was curled up in a ball, sleeping next to the toilet. When I reached down to pet him, I realized that he had gone. He looked very peaceful and I was grateful that he’d gone out on his own terms, even though it was so sad to lose him.
The next morning, we buried him in the backyard that he’d loved prowling around so much: