This is my kitty. Her name is Autumn Fall Meow Templeton. (Yeah, tradition in my house is to give the animal a name they can say.) She also gets known as Onery and Pest and Annoying Cat, but it's in jest, because mostly she gets called "Autumn Pretty Kitty". And she's a very old kitty, as she turned 15 this summer.
And she is very very sick, and it's probably terminal.
There are prolly those of you who remember me asking what it means when a cat is spitting up. Well, we found out today. An intestinal tumour, which makes it difficult for her to eat, and the vet said that it's most likely cancer and not a cyst. And she's got a tumour near her thyroid as well.
So I'm making a sudden trip home this weekend to say goodbye to my pretty kitty. Mom and Dad aren't going to put her to sleep immediately, since she is still eating and doing okay, but the vet said she could die any day now.
And why is she my pretty kitty? Well, Autumn was a shelter kitty. (All our animals were either shelter or strays, Autumn and Brit came from the same shelter roughly ten years apart, and Stormy showed up on our doorstep and wormed her way into jillcaligirl's heart, so Dad let her keep Storms.) And we think she might have been abused as a kitten, because it was all about trust. She was scared of us at first, and it was hard to convince her that we weren't going to hurt her, but eventually she came to trust us. And one of the ways she showed she trusted us was by rolling on her back and showing off her belly as somebody said, "Oh Autumn is a pretty kitty, Autumn so pretty, pretty, pretty kitty" in a singsongy voice. (When I get home, I'll make audio of the exact cadence for y'all, I don't have my mike on me.) And that endeared her to us. Along with knowing and recognizing the word 'eat', and getting to the point that she knew she'd get fed if mom yelled for me.
I'm going to miss my pretty kitty when she goes. I won't miss her bringing me live mice in my bed, though.
(Oh yeah, another reason we know she's hurting. Autumn hates the vet. Hates, hates, hates. Yesterday, I guess, she was purring so loud for the vet that he couldn't hear her heart. That isn't typical of my kitty.)