Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Today sucked. Our cat Purrcy, who just happened to be the sweetest cat to ever grace the earth, died this afternoon. I can't point to anything specific that he died of -- he was 18 and just plain old.






Never was a cat more appropriately named. Purrcy would purr if you looked at him the right way. In fact, he used to see a veterinary specialist in Knoxville because he had a heart condition. I'll never forget the doctor -- more than once -- barking at Purrcy to try to scare his purr away. He was purring so loudly that she couldn't hear his heartbeat!


There was not a mean bone in Purrcy's body. Even when he tried to be fierce, to hiss when, say, the new kittens came too close, it was cute and nowhere near ferocious.


We called him Purrcy Bear because he was like a great big teddy bear. He loved to be loved on, and the purr would start almost immediately. His favorite was to be scooped up and cradled in someone's arms like a baby. He'd reach up with his two front paws, grab my arm and pull it down to him, and hold it there while he licked my hand. He was almost named Elsie (for L.C. which would have stood for "Licking Cat") because he licked so much. It was the licking that drew me to him. My vet at the time asked me if I knew anyone who needed a cat -- one of her clients had passed away, and the vet was trying to find homes for the lady's three cats. I didn't intend on taking them, but I asked to see them. I sat in the floor and loved on them, and Purrcy licked me from wrist to elbow. I didn't take them home right away, but every time I was at the vet's with one of my own cats, I'd ask, "Are those kitties still here?" Finally, in February of 1999, Bobby agreed to let me bring home Purrcy and his brothers. For a while, he'd jump up in our bed and lick any inch of skin that was exposed. Bobby and I had to sleep with the covers pulled up to our chins or risk being licked raw!


It's harder because Maggie is more aware now. All afternoon, she kept saying that she didn't want him to die, that she wanted him to stay here with us, and that she thought he wanted to stay with us too.


To top off our wonderful day, I think Maggie has croup. She was fine this morning and seemed fine at school and most of the afternoon, though I heard a couple of suspicious, barky coughs after lunch. But when she snuggled up on the floor with Purrcy and me late this afternoon, I noticed she felt hot. I took her temp, and it was 102.8! I gave her some tylenol, sprite, and crackers, and she said she felt well enough to go trick-or-treating (of course). We put her in the wagon so she wouldn't have to walk, and visited just three neighbors' houses before calling it a night and heading home. So far she's not wheezing; that was the scariest part of her previous croup outbreak (in 2006). I guess it's going to be a quiet weekend at home for us. Those are always nice; I just wish it didn't have to come under these circumstances.