Sometimes it feels like the only reason I come back to this blog is to write about massive changes or terrible things happening in my life. But I want to document some of these things as a means of remembrance, especially when it comes to my pets. Losing Midnight last month was, for us, the marking of an era.
Prior to Gremlin and Bastion, I’d never had a cat live past 10 or 11. We had outdoor cats when I was a kid, so that’s not entirely surprising. Which also meant we went through animals quite often. I lost a lot of cats and several dogs throughout my childhood. I don’t think I realized, until I was responsible for raising my own animals, just how much longer a life they can lead by being indoor cats. We lost Bastion at 16, Gremlin at 17, and now Midnight at 18.
18 years old. That’s baffling to me. That’s so long for a cat. I’m 40 years old, which means Midnight was with us for pretty close to half my life up to this point. I still can’t even conceptualize that, even having lived through it. I’ve never had an animal – short of my real childhood dog Smokey – have such a lasting impact on my life.
I also didn’t really realize, until Bastion got sick, the level of responsibility taking care of elderly animals entails. I hate having this thought, but I don’t think my parents would have ever done the things we’ve done for our pets. Partially because they had a very different way of looking at pets, but also partially because it’s damned expensive, and pet insurance didn’t really exist back then.
Over the last few years Midnight had developed the same chronic renal issues that stole Bastion from us. She’d lost half her body weight in that time, dropping from 11 pounds to under 6. She slept most of the day, curled up in her heated bed, but when she wanted to be she was still pretty spry, which is impressive for a cat the equivalent of over 100 years old.
In Midnight’s case her disease moved much slower, and was more treatable in the long term. Bastion passed away only about six months after his diagnosis. Midnight stayed with us for almost three years. It involved a lot of work: subcutaneous fluids every day (which involves inserting an IV needle under her skin and dripping 100ml of saline solution into her system), prescription food, and four different medications, delivered by pill and shot. It was a lot of work. Work I’d do every single day for the rest of my life if it meant Midnight would still be with us. And without that work, she definitely would’ve died much sooner.
My wife and I married very young, and at the beginning of our relationship we knew we wanted pets. We were both animal people, and it only took a year to pick up Gremlin and Bastion – found in Port Angeles on our first anniversary. Once they were a part of our lives, we knew we were doomed to be “multiple animal” people. Even though we were both dog lovers, we were living in small apartments, and that environment wasn’t right for dogs. But cats… cats we knew we could accommodate.
One day at work, Christina saw a post about someone giving away kittens, and called me. Her birthday was coming up, and another kitten was her birthday wish. How could I refuse?
Our friend Karl and I went down to a standard cookie-cutter apartment complex in Renton to have a look. We were led to the closet in the main room, where the mama cat lay in a large box with her brood. There were still five or six kittens available of all different colors, and a couple other people were also browsing. They sat in the middle of the floor with a couple of feisty little calicos. Obviously I wasn’t going to disturb their choice, so I looked in the box.
I knew pretty much instantly which one was ours. A little tuxedo kitten, not quite a runt but definitely smaller than her siblings, hung out in the corner of the box, away from the other cats. She didn’t come to the edge and meow, nor try to get my attention in any other way. She just looked up, and I fell in love. Into a smaller box she went, and Karl helped keep her there for the half-hour drive home.
Christina reinforced my decision by falling in love with her just as quickly as I had. When Midnight came home with us she gained some energy, partly just from being in a new place, but partly from being introduced to her new brothers, who took to her the instant she set foot in the house. The three of them would go on to rule our lives for 18 more years, masters of the household they graciously let us live in. And Midnight was the queen.
She was, without a doubt, the most imperious and standoffish of the three. She demanded attention on her own time, and doled out love in parcels at her leisure. She was an energetic kitten and a studious adult. She frequently played the boys against each other, but just as frequently could be found curled up in a heap with both of them. They loved each other unconditionally, and we couldn’t have asked for a better relationship over the years. No animosity, no real fights, no special circumstances required. She was instantly and forever part of the family.
She always surprised us, though, when new people came around. Several times people house-sat for us while we were away, and we’d always come back to reports of how affectionate and loving Midnight was, and all we could do was shake our heads in wonder. It’s hard to show direct affection to your own subjects when you’re a queen, I guess, but there were no such social constructs with those outside her influence.
After Gremlin and Bastion passed, we knew for sure where she had been directing her affection, because it all came to us. Through both of their illnesses, she was their caretaker, frequently cleaning them and cuddling with them when they weren’t feeling well. When they were gone, it was clear she was lonely. She realized she didn’t need to be, and finally started showing us the kind of affection she’d always shown them. She became almost needy, and it was both heartwarming and bittersweet.
On Sunday, January 6th, we were giving her her fluids, and her breathing became a little labored. It’s probably not something I would have noticed, except that it was the same sign we got at the end of Gremlin’s life. Cats are obligate nose-breathers, so when they breath through their mouths, something is definitely wrong. My instincts proved right: We took her to the vet the next day, and found that she had fluids in her chest cavity. Just like Gremlin.
Once that happens, there’s not much more that can be done. The quality of life for a cat at that stage is not great, and not long. Rather than desperately try to find a way to extend her already impressive lifespan by another few months – a selfish move that wouldn’t have been in her best interests – we decided to let her go. She came home with us that night, and it was both the hardest and most fulfilling night of my life.
We spent as much time with her as we could, at the end. Lavishing her with affection and cuddles, giving her treats, and getting as much out of those last few hours as we could. We cried a lot. Grieved before she was even gone. It’s amazing, in those last few hours of dreading the morning, how every minute felt like an eternity, and yet it felt like we had so few left to spend with her. But I am so, so thankful we spent them with her, and had a chance to say a proper goodbye.
Driving her to the vet the next morning was one of the hardest moments of my life. Weirdly, sitting with her at the end felt easier than the lead-up. Her end was peaceful, wrapped in a warm blanket in our arms, hopefully knowing just how much she was loved, and how achingly she’d be missed.
Gremlin, Bastion, and Midnight were our first pets. They were a unit. The genesis of our family. In total, the three of them were with us for almost two decades. Each one of their deaths has had a massive impact on us, and the three of them all being gone now feels like the end of an era. I know life goes on and new eras will come and go, but figuring out a new dynamic was a challenge – in spite of knowing it would someday come – I never really prepared myself for.
Wherever you are, Midnight, I hope you’re happy and warm, and curled up in a big pile with your brothers again. We love you so, so much. Always.
