Farewell, sweet Boo

Me and the Boo got off to a bumpy start.

At the time I picked her out of the lineup at the Animal Humane Society, I was a barely 30-ish bachelor. I was at a point in my life where I felt like I was missing something. I realized I wasn't very good at relationships with women. I'd gone through a couple uncomfortable break-ups in the past few years, including one with a live-in girlfriend. For some this may be considered a 'come to Jesus moment.' But since that route didn't and doesn't appeal to me, I decided I wanted a cat.

I fell for the Boo - actually, her previous owners called her 'Smudge' which I thought was kind of slur for a black cat, you dig? Boo, fit much better. At times I called her Boo-trous, Boo-trous kitty and the Boo-dah, partially because she weighed in at 18 lbs.

The day after I brought her home, she picked up an upper respiratory infection. Which meant I had to go through the painful motion of packing her back in the box she'd been rescued with and bring her to the vet. It broke my heart, because to her it must have seemed like she was going back to Death Row.

The vets gave me antibiotic pills to give the Boo. "Just pry her mouth open and drop it in. And rub her throat to make sure it goes down," they told me. That proved to be much easier said than done. She fought like a beast as I tried to hold her still and get my fingers into her mouth. She growled, scratched and cursed at me. And she made me cry. I couldn't do it. I was going to fail this little animal.

I had to call a friend over to come help me wrestle down the Boo the first couple times. Finally, I figured out how to immobilize her by wrapping her up in a blanket up to her neck - 'kitty burrito' style. It was still tough, but my will triumphed.

The Boo was with me through my ups and downs. She liked to sleep with me on the couch in front of the TV. If you looked at her and said, "Hey Boo." She'd chirp back at you. The Boo also loved to eat. Like a dog, she'd snatch food off your plate if you weren't looking.

In her last year of life, the Boo caught a bout of hyperthyroid, cancer and kidney failure. Once again, I had to fight with her in order to save her life. There were pills, and chemotherapy for the cancer and the kidney failure. The hyperthyroid caused her to lose weight rapidly.

Despite all this, she was still the Boo. She still wouldn't let you sit down with a plate food without trying climb up on you to investigate it. She'd still chirp at you, although not as frequently. And she was still not fond of being medicated. Because she'd become so dehydrated, the vets gave us a bag of fluids and a set of needles which we used to inject water under her skin. And even though by this time she had withered down to about 5 lbs., she still fought us.

On her last night, the Boo was too tired to fight. Sensing that the inevitable was coming very soon, Mecca wrapped her up in towels and stayed up with her much of the night. In the morning, I held her as she took her last breaths.

I'm still deeply sad about losing the Boo. But I'm also relieved that she's no longer sick. And I'm relieved that she died at home in familiar surroundings, with the people who cared for her the most.