Syzdekistan

Today we had to put Kooshie to sleep. Kooshie was truly my cat. I got her back in my college days in 1991 or 1992 when she was about a year old. I took her “temporarily” for my college girlfriend Melanie when she moved to an apartment that wouldn’t allow pets. Even before dating Melanie, I remember playing with this tiny ball of fur with razor sharp nails and biting teeth. When Kooshie moved in with me at my parents house, she was extremely secretive and hid from my parents for months. It would take her months to warm up to anyone new. When Nancy and I married she came with two cats, Kooshie continued to be secretive in our new house. She didn’t tolerate our move to Denver very well at all and spent months in the basement. Late at night she would creep up the stairs and join me on the couch for chin scratch.

When Caroline came along in 2003, Kooshie didn’t appreciate this new intrusion into her quiet life. Eventually, she learned to tolerate Caroline as a toddler and would sleep under Caroline’s bed. Almost 16 years old, Kooshie began to slow down a little bit. Around the beginning of May, Kooshie began sleeping a lot on the new tile floor of Caroline’s bathroom. We just chalked that up the weather turning warm. She began to eat less and stopped coming down for her nightly snuggle on the couch.

On May 12, Nancy went home from work early and found Kooshie breathing labored. Alarmed, she called me and took Kooshie to our fantastic veterinarian, Dr. William Taylor. Dr. Taylor found out that Kooshie had fluid in her chest cavity that was impeding her breathing. He drew off 150 mm of fluid, took some x-rays, and ran some blood-work. Here, Caroline gives Kooshie a welcome home kiss as she returns from the vet.

The next week was difficult. I was working in the field in an area with no cell phone service. Nancy communicated with the vet’s office and I made occasional calls to Nancy via satellite phone. The test revealed that Kooshie suffered from lymphoma, a cancer of the lymph system. Her prognosis was poor. Even with chemotherapy, she had about a 40% chance of living for up to nine more months. We decided to have her put to sleep when I got back from my work trip.

Kooshie spent her last week much more comfortable now that she had the fluid removed from her chest. She spent much of her time sleeping in a cabinet in the laundry room and she snuggled with Nancy in the evenings. One day Caroline noticed the shaved patch on her side from the fluid removal procedure. She said “Kooshie has owie, mommy! She needs Band-Aid.” Caroline went upstairs to her bathroom, opened the drawer, got out a Band-Aid, and put it on Kooshie’s bare patch. When Nancy told me this story over the satellite phone it nearly broke my heart.

Friday came and I got back into town late morning. The appointment at the vet was at 2:30 P.M. I got home a little after noon, gave Kooshie some tuna (which she ate) and then spent about an hour on the couch with her lying contentedly on my lap. About 15 minutes before I had to leave, I took her outside in the back yard and she rolled in the warm sun. Then with a heavy heart, I took her to the vet.

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