Back in June 2006, a scrawny tomcat showed up at my parents' house, looking in the front windows and begging for food. We finally relented and gave the dirty, block-headed stray some food and water, and were amazed by his friendly purring and how he stopped eating to receive petting and love. We were smitten, and when Dad offered to have him vaccinated and neutered if Chris and I wanted to adopt him, we were pretty excited. We were only a couple of weeks from getting married, and for a short while, the black-and-white kitty I dubbed "Charlie Chaplin" slept with me at the house. When the apartment lease started, Chris moved in with his air mattress and Chap joined him, two bachelors livin' the life. He infamously punctured the air mattress with his sharp claws, so his relationship with Chris started well.
He was part of our lives at our humble apartment, waiting in the upstairs window every day for me to get home from work.
Chris was still finishing up his engineering degree, and Chaplin was a good study buddy.
He was there for our first Christmas together.
He preferred furniture to scratching posts, and made his mark on anything upholstered.
We never really knew his age, but he was full-grown when we got him. Still, he was playful and youthful, so we guess he was one or two when he came to us.
This cat LOVED to eat. Lots. And we learned not to leave cat food bags unattended.
Chaplin was diagnosed with FIV when he came to us, so he was always the only cat. However, he adopted his dog sisters and kept them in line from day one.
We moved to our first house in March 2007 and, when Chappy had recovered from that trauma, we adopted Addie in April.
No one told Chaplin how cats are supposed to be afraid of dogs, so he established a hierarchy right away.
Soon, they were wrestling and hanging out together.
Chap even tolerated my whims. He was supporting the AHS Colts before the July 4th parade here.
Note the ruined furniture. No telling which one was the culprit, but this poor chair was never the same.
We got Daisy in 2008, and Charlie Chaplin whipped her into shape, too. Daisy learned to watch for mischievous cat swipes out of nowhere--Chap would sometimes snag her ear as she walked by!
In November of 2008, it was time for another addition to the family, and Chap was right there with me, not always by choice...
However, he was not unhappy about all the visitors, some of whom surely came to see him instead of that noisy baby.
He found he could share a lap just fine.
As our family grew, Chaplin was happy for more warm places to snuggle. He pretty much forced himself on anyone in a prone position!
I should say, he didn't make exceptions. Any warm bed was fair game.
In our new house, he loved the big windows and warm sunlight in the afternoons. I learned to watch my step when walking by this big window, because Chap and Daisy were often sprawled in the sunlight, right in my path, of course.
In fact, looking back over the last couple of weeks, I wasn't seeing Chaplin in his usual places. He had extrasensory perception, a radar-like sensor that somehow detected the unfolding of an afghan anywhere in my house. However, when I was recently sick, he didn't come out to snuggle. When company came over, he didn't automatically appear and find the person most allergic to cats. My cousin Jenn commented a week ago about how bony he was and I laughed it off, wondering what on earth she could be talking about--he was a big ol' cat! But his occasional, annoying and random puking on my carpet became more frequent. Chris noticed that his food wasn't disappearing. Then, when he came to cuddle one day, I felt his entire spine and pelvis protruding and immediately knew something was wrong.
We got him into the clinic on Thursday afternoon to see the vet for whom Chris used to work. His physical exam turned up nothing except that Chaplin had lost 3+ pounds. He took blood and sent it off, expecting perhaps a thyroid problem, diabetes, or renal failure. I questioned him about Chap's liver because of the bile he was vomiting, but Dr. H said the whites of his eyes looked fine and the blood work would really tell us. Last night he called and said the results indicated that Chaplin's liver was in trouble. He suspected a few things, including hepatic lipidosis. The plan was to put Chap on a liver antibiotic and to insert a feeding tube, one that he would have for 6-8 weeks until, if we were lucky, he would start eating on his own again. Of course, none of this would make a difference if Chap had cancer, but the only way to know that would be to do a liver biopsy. Dr. H graciously went in this morning, a Saturday, to meet Chris and me and to put the tube in.
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| Charlie Chaplin, looking scrawny and sick this morning at the vet clinic. |
Chris stayed to help, but about an hour later he called me. They had put the tube in but while Chap was sedated, Dr. H wanted to use a coworker's ultrasound machine intended for large animals, just for kicks. He got a good enough look to know something was not adding up, so Chris agreed to go ahead and open Chaplin's abdomen and take a look. Turns out he had blood in his abdominal cavity and his liver was just a cancerous mess. It was a no-brainer that it was time to say goodbye and put my poor kitty boy out of his misery. It was tough news, but I am really grateful we didn't do the tube and prolong his suffering by forcing nutrition into him. It seems providential that Dr. H decided to try the ultrasound, because it saved us money, time, and most importantly, saved Chaplin from unnecessary distress and even torment.
While I understand and even feel grateful for a wonderful 10 years, it was really hard to tell my kids, and especially to help them understand. When I told Audrey Chaplin died and wouldn't be coming home, she said, "Like Grandpa Chuck?" Well, yes, actually. "Why?," she said. "Because Chaplin was very, very sick and it was time for him to die." She asked, and I kid you not, "When you're sick, are you going to die?" So that was fun to work through.
Chris told Noah when he was at Jamie's, and I think it took him awhile to process it. Jamie found him crying in the bathroom and brought him home for hugs and comfort. Noah has such a big heart and really feels deeply, much more so than Chris and me. It is hard for me to relate, and I make myself listen without trying to answer everything or explain too much. At one point, Noah sobbed, "I just wish nothing had to die. Why did Adam and Eve have to eat that fruit? If they hadn't done that, life would be AWESOME!" He is wise beyond his years, that one. I reassured him that in heaven, we won't feel sadness or loss or experience death anymore, so at least we have that hope while we live on this earth. In the meantime, though, it is hard to say goodbye to members of our family, even furry ones.
Thanks for a colorful ten years, Charlie Chaplin.
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