I’ve created this blog after I had to put down our little Cathy, my father’s chihuahua.  I wanted a place where I could express my love for her (read about it here).  

From my need to write about it all, I’ve encouraged others over the years to share with me their love for their furry friends.  Some did answer my call, some did it after the beloved pet passed away and some simply wanted to share why love was a four-legged thing for them.

As far back as I can remember we’ve always had a pet at home, mostly dogs.  My father didn’t trust cats. I even had a pet skunk at some point.  Having a pet or two always felt like home to me.  It completed the picture if you’d like.

Today, I kind of destroyed that picture of home… I had to make the decision it was time for our beau Tobi to go, after eighteen years of unconditional love. Over five years ago I did a post about him (read it here) sharing that love.



Sept 16, 1995 – June 21, 2013


It wasn’t an easy decision to make.  He had reached a point where he didn’t look like he was having fun anymore.  I knew his time was coming.  He had been sick and very close to dying two years ago, but with meds and a caring vet we managed to get an extra two years out of him.  Looking at him this morning, how after a few steps he would lay down, was a clear sign that he was tired and needed to go.  His eyes were telling me he had given up, even if at times he looked like he still had some life left in him.  To see him so frail and tired broke my heart.  I didn’t get him to let him suffer.  I wanted him to a healthy and happy life.  He didn’t look happy, he hadn’t purr in over a week.  He hadn’t groom in over a week either.  He didn’t do much, only drank cold water and take a few licks at his food, and sleep.  The last two days he made his round around the house and lay down in places we’ve never saw him in before; the front door carpet, by the big chair in the living room, by his water bowl.  He didn’t meow; he just plopped down on his side and slept.

We brought him to his vet for 10:30am and by 10:45 it was all done.  The vet gave him the lethal injection straight in the heart and within seconds he has gone.  I held him in my arms and didn’t even feel him go limp it was so quick.  As we lay him on the table, looking at him with his big beautiful yellow eyes opened, he looked peaceful.  It was done, by faithful companion of the last eighteen years was gone.

 I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around that idea, that from this moment on I will be alone at home, while I work. No more chit chat with my kitty as I went to the kitchen and he’d follow me, no more playing while I brushed my teeth and he hid around the corner awaiting for my finger to whack on the door frame, no more welcoming cries when I’d come home from a client or errands, no more thump sound as he jumped off a piece of furniture he wasn’t supposed to be on, no more walking all over me in bed before plopping down in between my legs, no more cracking sounds from his bad hips as he walked around the house, no more howling for no reason, no more saying “get out of there”, so more bag shaking of treats to get his attention, no more being uncomfortable because I didn’t want to move not to disturb him, no more cheating and giving some table food, no more sharing of my Cheetos, no more having to change glass because he drank from it, no more silent meow when told to be quiet, no more licking sounds and drool, no more laughter because he crossed the living room doing the crab or because he was chasing a ghost, no more bed mouse chasing,  no more napping companion, no more purr factory, no more cat…  My cat is gone, and it hurts.