Got Me On My Knees

End of an Era

Earlier this evening we bid a tearful farewell to our remaining cat, Laila. My brain is in limbo at the moment, because it was not an easy decision (it never really is, though) – and there was greater emotional weight with the added presence of the rest of the family at the end of her time. If you’re looking for some history, I would recommend that you read about the origin of our felines here.

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Logan’s Run

Little Buddy

I have previously related the story of the origin of our cats so there is no real need to go into how Logan entered our lives. It is somewhat interesting to note, however, that he didn’t look like a cat so much as he did some large black rodent. He was a twitchy, spazzy ‘fraidy cat. But in a way it was somewhat endearing.

The little black rat.
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Kitten Kaboodle

As a kitten, Logan had a heart murmur. He was always the less adventurous of the two, opting to stay in the pet carrier when we brought him home. Laila had pretty much explored a good chunk of our rental unit while Logan stayed behind in the bathroom waiting for her to come back. He relied on her for a lot in those days, as she showed him where to find his food and where to go to the bathroom. He had a love/hate relationship with toys that made crinkly noises.

Logan doing his best Bowie impersonation.
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Growing Into His Head

As he got older, he gained a little more confidence and a lot more mass. He was still a very nervous cat. He was also quite thick, to be honest. He was horrible at gauging distances, and often slammed into things while chasing after flies and running to see pigeons at the windows. One of my favourite stories involves him sitting in the office gazing off into the distance. Suddenly, a bird alighted on our deck rail and Logan became a graceful shadow of action. He bolted across the floor, leaped onto the bed and in one bound pounced toward the bird. Lucky for the bird the newly-cleaned sliding glass door had recently been cleaned, causing our poor hero to appear cartoon-like as he smacked into the pane and slid to the floor. He stood up, shook his head and walked away, casting rueful glances at his former quarry.

From zero to hero. Not too shabby as appearances go.
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Comic Relief

Those who knew Logan knew his penchant for the role of the Jester. Whether or not he did this intentionally is up for debate. Well. Maybe not. In any case it was certainly entertaining. Whether he was chasing his tail on precarious perches, or scrambling around like a fearful maniac, he was a constant source of amusement. Even when he was on medication for one of his infections, he still managed to deliver the goods. He put his all into his role.

He also seemed to grow more crotchety every year, picking on Laila for reasons known only to him. She was pretty tolerant of it all. She would fight back, not allowing him to get away with things. If some foreign cat found its way into the house, she would defend him from the interlopers, because he just didn’t have the balls for combat.

Logan making one of his Comedy Faces™, and cleaning Laila, probably just before biting her on the noggin.
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On the Move

When we made the decision to move a few years ago the cats did all right in terms of adjusting to their new surroundings. Even Logan – with all of his nervousness – seemed to do well in the new environment. The real challenge, though, was yet to come: The inevitable arrival of Baby J.

We made sure that the cats knew something was happening by letting them spend time in the nursery. I admit that there were times where they probably didn’t want to be as involved in everything but they were pretty patient.

Here we see Logan being very patient with me while I was practicing swaddling. In the other picture he’s chilling on the top of the couch, staring out the bay window.
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Baby J really liked Gogan. Considering her first word was cat, it’s no surprise. Logan had a love/hate relationship with Baby J, hissing and swiping at times, and then letting her manhandle him at others. It was very strange. Even though he was shy and stayed away from most people that visited our house, he was the first of the two cats to allow the baby to pet him.

The end, unfortunately (or fortunately) came very fast. I won’t really go into it. Suffice to say that he didn’t really look that sick. He just looked tired and skinny. Each of us spend some special time with him in his final week.

Logan doing what was unfortunately typical for him in the end. Just resting.
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A Good Boy

Logan was a big pain sometimes. He would endlessly whine for food and he would mess up the house. He ate food off the counter and snacked on inedible things. He picked on Laila, hissed at the baby and could be downright weird. But he was our little guy.

For all of these strange things, he was also very affectionate and sweet. He was with us when times were not so good. He made us laugh and when we were down he’d cheer us up. I like to think he knew that he was loved. In the end, he was surprisingly brave and was very peaceful.

I will always remember Logan this way. He was certainly a handsome devil.
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A Battle Lost

Logan Loses the Fight

Today, after careful consideration, we elected to put our beloved neurotic cat to sleep.

The past few weeks have been filled with angst, frustration and, honestly, bilious piles of orally ejected cat food (to put it politely).

A few weeks ago, Logan couldn’t really keep anything down. Never really being a worry-free cat (having had a heart murmur as a kitten and several bladder infections and crystal buildups to his credit), we immediately suspected that this was something more than hairballs.

The poor little guy was just having a rough go of eating. After having thrown up everything he ate one morning, he just continued to do so at random intervals. All day. This doesn’t bode well when your stomach contains nothing. The mere sound of food landing in their bowls would send him into convulsions and his water intake was down.

After analysis at the vet, they couldn’t find anything wrong with him (they took x-rays), but informed us that not all materials show up in x-rays and that given the configuration of his digestive system, the probable location of a blockage was the stomach exit. If the condition continued he would require detailed analysis and surgery.

They prescribed anti-vomit medication and gave him an injection of subcutaneous fluid to keep him hydrated for a few days. He wasn’t getting better. He would vomit the anti-vomit medication and would not eat. For a few days after, he seemed to get better, but relapsed back to the miserable state he was in before we took him to the vet.

We couldn’t afford the surgery. We couldn’t even afford the detailed analysis, really. And even if we could, the fact that while we did love him, Logan was a goofball that ate everything from carpet to foam, it was a question of whether or not trying to save him would actually stop him from being in the same predicament again.

So the family said their goodbyes (Little J said bye bye Gogan and gave him a kiss on the forehead) and I took him in to be euthanized.

It’s amazing how such a small creature can break your heart.

I miss him already, even if he could be a pain in the ass.

Goodbye, Logan
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I’ll write more soon about our little furry friend tomorrow (good stuff, I promise). I need to get some sleep because I am tired.