Goodnight to a very dear and wonderful friend.

Two of Mishka's favourite pleasures -
laying in the window and soaking up the sunshine.

"No Heaven will not Heaven be, unless my cats are there to welcome me." (Anonymous)

Sadly - just as the vet had predicted - Mishka's decline was terribly fast and, on the morning of April 2nd, with deep sorrow and a lot of tears, we made the difficult decision to release her from her suffering as we gently comforted her and kissed her goodbye. Sleep tight little princess.

Our treasured Mooky has gone to join the rest of the large and wonderful feline family we once had - Molly, Lucy, Otto and Kramer (who passed in 2006, 2009, 2010 and 2011 respectively). It chokes me up to think of them all - we loved each of them so dearly and were endlessly bemused by their very different and endearing personalities and quirks. I hope with all my heart we shall be so happily reunited with them all, when that day comes.



Molly - our fiesty and determined old lady, with
the super-soft fur and delightful squeak
 (18.5yrs - Sept. 2006)

Our adorable, cuddly and very unique, special and
quirky little love, Lucy (14yrs, we think - Dec. 2009)

We laughed so hard when we came home to find this scene.
These two baskets of spare blankets were on top of a cupboard.
Otto (left) and Kramer decided they made perfect beds just for them.

Otto's morning face - that look says everything :-)
He was probably plotting his next evil deed.
(19yrs - Oct. 2010)

Kramer - So full of love, but always ready for more.
Much more. Our little luuuurve machine. (18yrs - 2011)

One of the rare phtos with all 5 cats! Can you spot Lorne?

And sweet, princess Mishka - the big black furry
cushion with eyes (15.5yrs - April 2013)

 

Emotionally I know I'm still a little afraid to go too deep with my sadness at losing Mishka, my adorable shadow and companion for almost 16 years, sharing and enhancing almost the whole of my life thus far living in Vancouver. The beany baby kitten that sometimes drove me crazy chewing the phone cable or making her own mini hockey puck out of any little object she could find and batting it around my tiny bachelor suite, usually between 3 and 5am! Talking constantly, even moreso as she got older. Even if you weren't speaking to her directly she would have something to say, often from the next room. If she knew you were talking about her, then she would pipe up even louder. She certainly found her tonsils, especially if she was waiting for food or for the next dose of medications that, for the past few years, we've dutifully wrapped in Pill Pockets twice-daily for her - and which she enjoyed so much that, upon hearing the rattle of the pills in their containers, she'd literally come running - arthritic or not, she could easily out-pace the young guns, Mel & Louis, at pill-time.

Pill Pockets are the best invention ever! Mishka loved them and pilling her was a breeze - to the point she would certainly meow loudly to let us know it was time. If only they'd been around when we had Molly! That cat was a fighter and could hold an unswallowed pill in her mouth for a good 10mins, only to surreptitiously spit it out the moment she thought you weren't looking. And you'd have to wrap her in a towel before you could even try giving the pill, or risk losing an eye from those swift 'no billsh*t' moves of hers. The best time being when she gashed and bit Dr. Clarke at Granville Island Veterinary - the same guy who was so damn  bloody-minded and insistant 10 years ago that Mishka was dying from a cancer he just hadn't found yet. Ahhh yes, good ol' Molly!

Like I mentioned in my previous post about Mishka, there is some comfort in knowing that she led a long, very happy, extremely loved and definitely very well-cared-for life with us. There wasn't a thing we wouldn't do for her to ensure she was feeling happy and well. She worked with us just as much as we did everything within our powers (and medical capacity) to work with her and keep her in the best physical and emotional health. I honestly believe that she knew it and she loved us for it right back.

It meant such a lot to me to have all that time off last year and be able to spend it with Mishka (and the boys, of course). To be there to put food or crunchies down before her whenever I turned around. To watch her laying or rolling around in the sunny spot by the back door, chirping with pleasure and happily soaking up the warmth of every drop. To sit with her on my lap out on the deck, where she'd happily stay a while (whereas any other time she was definitely not a lap-cat). To watch how affectionate, gentle and playful Mel and Louis were with her, so wanting of her love and attention.

I was soaking up every moment with her perhaps because I knew age and health were no longer on her side and every precious moment was to be treasured. While she was definitely happy and doing incredibly well (right up until the week before passing) maintaining our Mooky's health was an ongoing challenge even though it held steady for so long thanks to the amazing guidance, attentiveness and deep compassion of the vets as Vancouver Animal Wellness  - predominantly Dr Michael Goldberg.

Nevertheless, I miss my shadow, my companion, my friend, my chatty ball of beautiful black hair, those beautiful eyes and that precious little face. She was a stunning cat, no doubt about that, and just as adorable on the inside as she was to look at. I'll miss her when I do my crafts and she's not there curled up in the seat right next to me. We miss her snuggling between us on the couch each evening. I know Lorne even misses the fact she woke him up every night (for the past year or so) wanting him to give her food or crunchies - to the extent he had to keep a small tupperware container by the bed....and Mishka knew it! I miss her shouting outside of the closed bathroom door, eager to come in and be petted while I finished getting ready for work.

The sweetest little cat who always had something to say. And, if you began whistling, she'd kick it up a notch. We could never quite work out if it drove her to distraction or was she simply trying to join in. Even if you whistled upstairs, you'd hear her start complaining downstairs. And, in the other extreme, if she heard you open a can of tuna in the kitchen, she would immediately come a-thumping down the hallway, meowing all the way. She could literally distinguish the sound of the tuna can against all others.

Once a light, skinny and silent sneaker-upper, Mishka developed a cute stomp in her latter years, so we could literally hear her coming, even from upstairs...thump...thump...thump...thump, due to mild arthritis and the fact that a few years on medications had increased her weight to a more healthy (or tad hefty) 5.8Kg as opposed to the 4Kg she'd been for quite some time while we tried to figure out her ongoing intestinal issues.

I miss my little Mooky so much. I miss talking to her, I miss her sweet, pretty face. I miss singing to her, seeing her by my side and sitting right behind me whenever I'm in the kichen - such an adorable little shadow of fluff. I miss pampering to her every whim and the constant dilemma of 'what does Mishka want to eat?' I miss her in ways that make my heart ache, but I absolutely know we gave her the best life she could ever have and we worked with her, and the expertise of our wonderful veterinary crew, in exploring every avenue to keep her happy and healthy and, for our efforts, we were more than rewarded in return by the most wonderful, loving, entertaining and endearing little princess we could ever have asked to share such a long and treasured part of our lives with.

Amid the loss and the quietness (without that little voice), a huge part of our daily routine has ended; morning medications, hairball remedies, hip/joint supplements, lactulose to keep the trains running, evening medications and supplements, subcutaneous fluids every other day and a scraggy-looking haircut every month or so. Not forgetting the ongoing efforts and variety of gourmet foods to get her to eat. In spite of it all our precious little Mooky was clearly comfortable, extremely content and happy to be around us all and, as hard as it was to say goodbye, I'm glad she wasn't in too much pain for very long.

The hardest part is knowing that the kindest decision we can make for our furry friends is also the very last thing we want to do.

You are in our hearts forever, Mishka - and when the time comes, we promise to bring tuna, Fancy Feast, Pill Pockets and a baguette!

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