Scout at 5 months old in 2001, she had been with us for a few months at this point. She sat and slept in very tidy positions, a big change compared to our other cat Templeton.
Author: boolie
The Last Picture
This is the last picture I took of Scout, about five or six hours before she died. I realized I didn’t have a picture of the two of us, so I took a quick series of pictures. I didn’t set the camera up all that well, I was too upset to focus on photography, but nevertheless I’m thankful for the pictures. I need to learn how to fix a few things in post-processing, like the excessive yellow in parts of my face that came from the room lighting instead of the flash.
I didn’t take many pictures since as you can see from her expression she was already on the decline and I didn’t want to stress her, so I soon put the camera away and snuggled with her instead. Although even when healthy I would see this face when she thought I had taken enough pictures, she wasn’t that fond of the camera. But in this case she was more ill than annoyed.
It’s easy after her death to feel guilty that I didn’t photograph her more in the last years of her life. And especially that I didn’t photograph the two of us together. To regret all the shots I didn’t take but should have. Or that over the years I didn’t upgrade cameras often enough so that many of my early pictures are at a low resolution, even on today’s monitors, and many from her middle years will be low in the era of retina displays. Or that I never learned to shoot video and don’t have good video — and especially audio — of her purring while curled up in her warm bed.
Some of that self-criticism is fair, and something I need to learn from. But some of it springs from the grief of losing her, when the sorrow subsides it will be easier to remember she benefitted more from me spending time with her than always trying for the perfect picture.
I certainly took a lot of pictures of her. It just hurts that I can’t take any more.
Scout at the End
These are some of the last pictures I took of Scout, taken around noon on the day she died. At this point she had already regressed quite a bit from the energetic cat I brought home after her blood transfusion, but we were still a couple of hours away from getting the news that she most likely had cancer of the spleen and would not recover. At times she seemed fine, just quiet, but I knew her so well that even then I knew she was slowly fading. Other times, as in the second picture, she even looked miserable and was only comforted when I set her on top of me.
For the rest of the afternoon, I put my camera and laptop away and just lay on my back and let her sleep on my chest, listening to her breathing and purring to try to determine when it was time to say goodbye. Whenever I got up to go the bathroom or check on the other pets, I lost my composure and broke down in tears. But when I was back in the room with her, a complete calm came over me, which kept my breathing nice and gentle as she relaxed on my chest, rising and falling with each breath I took.
If I could have been guaranteed she would die peacefully, I would have kept her there to the end. But I was afraid she’d die a painful death, or worse that she would suffer a painful seizure or organ failure and still be alive and in pain. I wanted the pain to be mine, not hers, and wanted her to be euthanized.
The only question was when.
When the specialist vet called with the news that Scout likely wouldn’t recover, she said that she shouldn’t have lost that much energy that quickly after her transfusion if it had been any of the treatable causes of anemia. Scout was still eating which she thought was a good sign, she thought she’d stop as she got weaker and agreed that would be a good sign it was time to euthanize her.
But Scout, bless her heart, kept eating right up until the end. She couldn’t eat much at once, I suppose the effort must have tired her, so I kept the bowl beside me and fed her a piece at a time as she relaxed on me. She wasn’t as eager to drink which worried me more, but then I remembered that throughout her life she had tried to drink out of my water glass even when there was water in her bowl, so I brought up a full glass and she drank from that.
I thought Scout would let me know it was time by finding a place to hide, much like she had when she first fell ill, and like our cat Templeton did when it was his time. Since we were isolated in the bedroom I thought she’d hide under the bed, or at least under the covers, but as the afternoon wore on I realized she wanted to stay with me until the end. If I had to get up she went to the spot she had chosen as her spot, the place where I lay my head when I sleep every night.
So close was our bond.
Late in the afternoon when she snuggled up to my face and began purring, she was so close I couldn’t see anything but her face, hear nothing but her purrs, and wanted that moment to last forever. But I could see how pale her nose was getting, a sign the oxygen levels in her blood were dropping low. My wife soon called when she got off work and we agreed to meet at our local vet which was not only close by but also where we were most comfortable and knew the staff, and they knew Scout.
It was time.
It broke my heart to break up that moment, Scout purring so happily in my face, as I knew it would be our last happy moment together. But I didn’t want to risk waiting too long, so I gently eased her off my chest and set her on the bed. Her cat carrier was stashed just outside the bedroom and in the time it took me to take a few steps to the door and turn around again, she had eaten a few bites and was back in her spot at my pillow.
She looked so miserable, I knew it was time.
When she didn’t fight me going in the carrier, I knew it then too. After the short ride to the vet, she perked up a bit at first when we were in the private room, but she stayed quiet, and soon just tried to bury her head in my chest. Our vet came in and gave her a shot with both a painkiller and sedative and Scout soon fell asleep awkwardly on my lap. I couldn’t see her face but we knew she was asleep because she was snoring. Scout was a quiet and small cat, and when she snored sometimes as she slept, her snore was quiet and small too. It always brought a smile to my face, and there she was, about to die, making me smile through my tears.
The vet took her away to insert a catheter, saying it usually took about five minutes, but it took a little longer with Scout because her blood pressure was so low from her anemia. I didn’t have any doubts that we were doing the right thing, but I was thankful we hadn’t waited any longer.
She brought Scout back in sound asleep and curled up in a padded wicker basket, a lovely gesture as I could set her in my lap and still have her look as peaceful as if she had been curled up in her beloved heated bed. The vet gave her two quick injections through the catheter and almost immediately Scout breathed her last.
They were willing to let us stay as long as we wanted, and I would have thought I’d want to stay for a little while. But when I saw her stop breathing, I just stroked her lovely soft fur a few times — she kept herself groomed right up to the end — and I was ready for them to take her. Scout had prepared me to say goodbye all day long and now that she was gone, I let her go.
It was time.
Scout 2001-2013
About twelve years ago, a feral cat had a litter of kittens underneath the house of a friend of ours. The mother disappeared not long after so our friend hand-raised the kittens. When they were old enough to be adopted out, we were offered an adorable little black-and-white kitten.
We named her Scout.
As we left their house my wife drove while I sat in the back seat beside Scout in her cat carrier, but she kept mewing and mewing so I let her out into my lap. She promptly started climbing up my shirt and I discovered that being little doesn’t mean kitten claws aren’t sharp. When we got home, at first we kept her in a bathroom so she and our cat Templeton could gradually get to know one another. Scout hated being isolated in there, so to comfort her I’d lay on the hard floor and she’d curl up under my chin and fall asleep.
Even after being released into the house at large, she’d curl up under my chin at night. She soon grew too large to sleep around my neck and moved to my chest, where she’s slept every night for the last twelve years, usually with her face pointing towards my legs and her tail wrapped around my face.
A special bond formed between us that lasted throughout her life.
Earlier this week she didn’t come up to sleep on me, and when it happened the second night in a row, I knew something was wrong. She kept trying to hide places, like she was looking for a place to die, so we took her into our local vet who started a bunch of tests and determined she had a severe case of anemia, but didn’t know why.
To try and find the cause, she was transferred to another vet with round-the-clock care and more equipment for testing. Most of the early tests were encouraging in that she looked healthy apart from the anemia, but discouraging in that they couldn’t find the cause. The oxygen levels in her blood crashed to dangerous levels so she was given an emergency blood transfusion and thankfully it was successful and she recovered nicely. So nicely in fact that after they did a test for cancer in the spleen she was allowed to come home and spend the night with us. We were to give her medicines for the treatable causes of anemia since we still didn’t know the cause, while we waited on the results from her spleen test.
We got her home early yesterday evening and set her up in our bedroom, where she and I spent the next day together. At first she was back to her old self courtesy of the transfusion, which was remarkable to me since she had nearly died that morning. She snuggled up with me throughout the evening and then took her normal place on my chest throughout the night.
By morning the effects of the transfusion seemed to be wearing off and she tired more easily so I decided to give her some quiet time so she could sleep. But she wouldn’t sleep unless I lay there with her, so I climbed into bed and she curled up on my chest and we napped for a couple of hours. I got more and more worried as the day went along, as she seemed to get weaker and weaker.
In mid-afternoon the vet called with test results: she almost certainly had cancer of the spleen. They would need a second opinion from another specialist to be absolutely certain, which was going to take a couple of days, but it explained why Scout had been fading so quickly after the transfusion and why she wasn’t responding to any of the medicines she was taking.
By this point she didn’t want to move around much, so I just lay on the bed and let her sleep on my chest. I could feel her fading as time passed, even her purrs were getting weaker, softer, and harder to come by, as I stroked her soft fur as she slept. Late in the afternoon, she turned and crawled up to my face, hers right next to mine, and just purred and purred and purred. It was such a sweet and charming moment that it almost gave me second thoughts about what needed to be done.
While Scout was still purring against my face, my wife called when she was about to get off work. I let her know how weak Scout was and that I thought it was time, so she called our local vet to see if we could come in. We could, so I packed Scout into her carrier, without so much as a protest on her part, and met my wife there. We were led into a quiet, private room where Scout was euthanized.
She passed peacefully in my arms.
It was almost exactly a day from the time I brought her home after her transfusion to the time she passed away. In a strange way, my last day with Scout was also one of my favorites. I got to see her so full of life at first, just like her old self, then see her fade until we both knew it was time to say goodbye. But it was also a day full of snuggling, just the two of us, where she purred and purred and let me know how much she loved me. And I scratched her head and stroked her back and let her know how much I loved her.
And there was that last beautiful moment where we were face to face and she purred so happily. It was a great comfort to me to know what I comfort I was to her, and that even as she knew she was dying, she was where she wanted to be.
Oh Scout, how I loved you, and how I will miss you.
A Night With Scout
Scout’s emergency transfusion was successful, it not only saved her life but left her strong enough that they let us bring her home for the night, as she’ll be under much less stress here. Since we still don’t know the cause of her anemia, we don’t know how long the good effects of the transfusion will last, but we’ll evaluate her tomorrow morning and afternoon and bring her back in if she regresses.
The x-rays came back looking good, there were no obvious signs of cancer or any metal objects that might have caused internal bleeding. They took a test from her spleen this afternoon as it’s swollen a bit, it isn’t unusual with her level of anemia but they want to rule out cancer in the spleen itself. We’ll get those results back tomorrow. Depending on those results, and how she’s doing tomorrow, they may run another test to evaluate the quality of the red blood cells her bone marrow is producing (thankfully we do know it is producing them, a condition known as regenerative anemia — she’s generating red blood cells but her body is destroying them).
In the meantime she is getting medicine for two potential causes of anemia, infection and an auto-immune disorder. I’m hoping the cause is one of these two, as they are treatable to at least some degree. The infection possibility is unlikely but the easiest to treat. The auto-immune disorder would require her to take steroids for the rest of her life, ruining her shot at playing ball in the big leagues, not to mention putting her more at risk of some other diseases, but I’ll take it.
We’ve got her isolated in our bedroom for the time being to minimize her stress, I’m staying with her while my wife is sleeping downstairs with the other pets. We kept her here when she first fell ill and it helped calm her down substantially. She’s been eating and moving around nicely since we brought her home, a far cry from where we were a couple of days ago, and especially this morning.
At the moment she’s curled up on my legs, purring, about to fall asleep, her black-and-white fur gently rising and falling as she breathes. I took this picture of her fur a few days ago, I didn’t take any tonight to avoid adding stress to what has already been an exhausting day for her (and us).
It sure is good to have her home, and in good spirits. Here’s hoping she feels the same in the morning.
A Night Without Scout
Scout suddenly started feeling ill a few days ago so we took her into the vet. Of the possible causes our initial hope was hyperthyroidism, as there is not only medicine to treat it but even a cure, but the problem turned out to be anemia from an unknown cause. She was transferred to a clinic with more diagnostic equipment and underwent a battery of tests yesterday that didn’t reveal the cause, but no red flags either, and at least she seemed stable.
She spent the night there and took a turn for the worse this morning when the oxygen levels in her blood dropped to dangerous levels. She’s getting a blood transfusion now to try and stabilize her, and then more tests this afternoon once she’s stable. The doctor gave 50/50 odds it will be treatable, but it’s hard to say until we know the cause. It’s pretty serious and I’ve been a wreck the past few days, but hope to know a little more this afternoon.
Depth Charges
I was photographing this pied-billed grebe when such large raindrops began to fall that it looked like depth charges were exploding around it.
Upstairs, Downstairs
Sam looks down from atop the landing at the top of the stairs.
Supercomputer
Many of the tasks on my big list involved finishing up the remodeling of my office that started about a year ago, including getting a better photo processing solution. I’ve been getting further and further behind in editing my pictures, which decreases my desire to go out and take new ones. I had four options and gave them each a lot of consideration but in the end settled on Apple’s adorable Mac mini. I’ve had a soft spot for them ever since the first model was introduced but never had a use for one until now.
Aperture runs much better on the mini than my laptop, which was a bit of a shock as the mini is made out of similar laptop parts. There are several big differences, the first the amount of RAM (the mini has 16 GB, twice that of the laptop). The second is the storage, the mini has Apple’s new Fusion drive that seamlessly combines an SSD and hard drive, the laptop a traditional hard drive. Regardless of the reason, I love the results.
I took advantage of the new USB 3.0 ports to get a faster card reader from Lexar, it downloaded my images so quickly that at first I thought something had gone wrong.
My biggest criticism is I wish it was slightly larger so it could house the bigger 3 TB Fusion drive that the iMac gets, letting me eliminate the hassle and clutter of my external drives. All-in-all though the mini has been a delight, greatly exceeding my expectations.
Making A List & Checking It Twice
My glorious vacation is at an end. I used a combination of vacation and holidays to take a week off at Thanksgiving, go back to work for two weeks, then take four weeks off in December and early January. It has been fantastic, a mix of goofing off and getting things done.
I had a lot I wanted to get done so early on I made a huge list of tasks on a letter-sized piece of paper, both sides, multiple columns, and started crossing things off as I got them accomplished. There were too many things to do even during such a long vacation but I did make good progress.
Two high priorities are shown here. The first was the Crosstrek, I knew it would be hard to find but wanted its all-wheel drive capability as soon as possible since we were into the rainy season, a decision I was already thankful for on my first drive out to Ridgefield as it poured rain. The second was to replace our garage door which had split in half, it looked fine from the outside but was so fragile we couldn’t even risk opening it. The new door has been installed and works better than the old to boot. The wood framing needs to be painted but that will have to wait for warmer and drier weather.
While I love small cars in general, you can also see why the little Crosstrek held such an appeal for us. Ours is an old house, the garage built into the basement level. The driveway is narrow and between two retaining walls, while the garage is small in all dimensions. The other car has to be parked on the street, where a small car is also convenient, so I had little doubt that at least one of us would find the Crosstrek a good fit.
Now the question is: will we end up with two?
Boolie 