by Fran Y.

Not entirely unexpectedly, my husband and I lost our sweet (and spoiled), 16.5-year-old cat, Pecan, today to declining health. Pecan was the 2ND of our original pets, who we always name after trees: Maple, Pecan, Willow, and now Chestnut.

Pecan, a stray, joined our pet household from a friend as a companion to our other cat, Maple. Pec was a little younger, but still under 1 year of age. Unlike Maple, Pecan had experienced a rough beginning on his own, bearing scars on each of his sides, very likely signs of abuse. Also unlike Maple, Pecan proved to be the most obedient, patient, well-mannered cat we'd seen. When he "spoke" to us, it was almost as if he was asking permission for do something. We soon referred to Pecan as "the angel cat," as the scars were what remained after where his wings had fallen off. (In time, and with proper care and nutrition [and extra weight!], the scars faded.

As affectionate us as he was, Pecan was a ruthless hunter in our back woods, often gorging himself on little woodland creatures, much to our displeasure. We often joked with our vet that he needn't take his hounds hunting; all he needed to bag a deer was for Pecan to accompany him.

But in the past few years, his health declined. At first gradually, we hardly noticed except for hearing and weight loss. But yesterday, Pecan started to exhibit signs of labored breathing and loss of appetite.

This morning's examination at the vet revealed he'd developed hyper-thyroidism, but also a suspicious mass in his chest that the vet belief that it probably was cancer. As with elderly humans, there were several health issues affecting little Pecan. He was down to a mere 7.5 pounds and lost 20% of his body weight since January.

As is our agreement, my husband and I believe in sustaining our pet family's health until a crisis permanently compromises their quality of life. We chose not to put Pecan through further testing.

My husband isn't comfortable attending to these things, so I went to help Pecan pass to the other side to join his former pet family, Maple and Willow. I told Pecan they'd be there to welcome him over (not sure if that was much of a consolation in retrospect since they were constantly vying for our attention when they were all here!). But he passed quickly and peacefully.

In the waiting room before the procedure, I struck up a conversation with a young Dad and his 2.5-year-old son, who were there with their new 9-week-old Sheltie pup. To be honest, I'm not sure who was more cute: the kid or the pup. The Dad told me that he wasn't exactly eager to get a new dog so soon after he'd had to put down their former dog. I said that was why I was there, and he expressed sympathy. Afterwards, on my way out, I breezed by the little "family" with a tear-stained face and he told me again how sorry he was. It's one of life's ironies how when you least expect it, total strangers can reach out and bring a little comfort in one's grief.

Oddly enough, while working at my desk at home, I glanced down and spotted one of Pecan's hairs. I'd like to think that was a little sign to me that he's still around us. Perhaps Pecan left us now for us to make room in our home and hearts for another feline family member.

Bill and I miss our Siberian tabby warrior, but know that he's now been restored to eternal health.