I lost a most excellent pet today... Good-bye, Snoogie
Category Snoogie loss pet
Today I had to go through that event that every pet owner dreads, but eventually has to deal with... the loss of your loved furry friend. Snoogie, our cat of 16 years, lost his battle with kidney disease, and we decided it was time to let him go and put him to sleep. Losing a pet has never hurt as much as this one did...
Snoogie came to us in a way we didn't really plan. We had gotten rid of our puppy Keshi, as we found that puppies and very young children didn't mix very well. My wife was set on a cat, which didn't do a whole lot for me. I was a dog person, not a cat lover. I had mentioned our plan to a co-worker, and within a week we got a call from her. She had found a kitten out in the field behind her house, nearly dead from the cold. She got him warmed back up, and wanted to know if we were interested. Thus, Squeaker (not yet Snoogie) entered our life...
Given his age and condition, we had to bottle feed him every few hours to get him back to normal. Of course, there was also the constant watch to make sure he wasn't having accidents all over the place. Pets at that age don't differ a whole lot from infants. To make matters even more complicated, Susan's dad had a stroke the day after we got Squeaker, and she headed off to Bellingham to be with him. So here I am, with a cat I wasn't in favor of getting, in charge of feeding and cleaning up after him. I was *not* happy...
... until Squeaker figured out the litter box on his own the next day, and was eating out of a dish without drowning himself the day after. Hmm... perhaps cats weren't so bad after all.
Why Squeaker? Well, for whatever reason, he wasn't picking up on the noises that "normal" cats make. His meow was more of a squeak, distinctive enough that it earned him his name. But somewhere along the way, the kitten talk had Susan calling him Snoogie, and the name sort of stuck. So Snoogie it became. At least he answered to it... when he wanted to. While he did eventually figure out how to meow like a normal cat, he usually restricted that to when both of us came into the kitchen after being gone for a while, and he was hungry. Once he made that fact known, he was done with the meowing. His normal form of communication was a trilling sound that he would make when you talked to him. If you came into the room and said "Snoogie?", he'd answer with a trill that went up just like a question... it was like he was answering you with "Yeah? What did you want?" I'll miss that sound...
Probably because of his rough start in life, he was perfectly happy laying on top of someone or bundled up in some piece of fabric. The tighter you snuggled him, the happier he was. And I had to admit... he *was* cute.
Over the years, he grew up with the family. Normally very calm and mild-mannered, he had an evil streak that came out occasionally. For some reason, he thought stalking and attacking Ian was great sport when Ian was younger. Snoogie would sit in the dining room, just watching Ian. Ian knew what was coming, and he didn't know whether to make a dash for it or use the hallway instead. Not being the brightest kid (wearing shorts, no less), he'd run through the dining room, allowing Snoogie to do his "lion attacking the wildebeest" imitation. I'm sure Ian still has scars on his legs from those "good times."
Snoogie also "remodeled" my mancave many years ago. We used to let him have the run of the house, including the basement area where I hang out. One day we came home, and Snoogie was looking rather messy, with some dirt and spider webs on his fur. I went downstairs to find four panels of the suspended ceiling broken on the floor, along with bent support railings. To this day, I *still* don't know how he got in there. That was the end of his basement roaming privileges. I'll remember him every time I look at the crooked rails and cracked panel now.
As an indoor cat, he longed for the times he could make his great escapes into the outdoors. If the door wasn't completely closed, he could and would work to pry it open. It took us a while to learn that if he got out, it was best *not* to chase after him, as he would just keep running until you got tired. It was best just to walk out, talk to him as he sniffed stuff, and then pick him up and return him to the safe (but boring) confines of the house.
Snoogie almost didn't make it to the age of seven. During Lotusphere 2003, I got a call from my wife. Snoogie wasn't eating or drinking, and appeared to be in some degree of distress. She took him to the vet, and they saw some blockage in the intestinal area. It would cost $1500 to do the exploratory surgery to try and correct the problem, but they still didn't know what the underlying issue would be. As a consultant making far less than I had made while working at Enron, I was scared to spend that much money with no promise that it would actually fix the problem. Yes, it sounds cold to put a price tag on what your pet's life is worth, but I've never been able to see myself spending thousands of dollars on health care for an animal. Not that I think people who do so are wrong... I just can't do it. Anyway, we decided we'd pay for the surgery, and see what happened. They found adhesions that had kinked the intestine, and they were able to break it up and start his recovery. Fortunately, he survived that operation and had no other problems over the years. The running joke was that after year five, he had amortized his surgery enough that he was worth it. :)
Over the last couple of years, he developed a fascination with my robe from the Boardwalk hotel at Disneyworld. It was white plush terry cloth that he could sink into. When I would lay down with it on, he immediate came over and assumed his rightful place draped over my arm and shoulder, kneading his claws in the fabric and purring loud enough to be heard in the other room. If I started to stroke the white patch of fur between his eyes, he'd nearly go into a trance of ecstasy. Kitty heaven...
When Marie Scott, Gabriella Davis, and I wrote the Sametime Administration Guide in 2011, we snuck in pictures of our pets in various screen captures. Snoogie made his print debut as the Sametime Mobile Kitty, the background cheesecake image for the software icon on my iPhone. At the time, it was a cute thing to do... Now, it will be a memorial to him.
As I write this, I feel the pain of his absence acutely. Baxter, our other cat, is not a cuddler, so there's no replacement for our reading and nap kitty. No longer will I sit down to read, only to have Snoogie appear with a little trill, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to make room for him in *his* favorite position. I won't be able to walk up to him on the dishwasher, start rubbing behind his ears with his face cupped in my hands, as he buries his forehead in my chest. Opening a new bag of kitty kibble will not be as much fun any more, as he'd attack the fresh kibble like we had never fed him before. He won't be balanced on the edge of the dishwasher, reaching out as far as he can, trying to "help" us with the milk container. I swear he could actually say "milk"... No more contorting Snoogie into all sorts of positions to get comfortable, without a hint of a struggle or care from him. So long as he was close and you were rubbing his belly, he was happy. Rub the underside of his paw, and his toes would splay out... Flip him on his back to trim his nails, and he'd just lay there cradled in your legs without a fuss.
Even though I suspected it was coming for the last few months, and knew without a doubt for the last week, the raw emotions of saying good bye was hard... trying to stick him into the carrier and zip the top, while he tried to pop back out... knowing that it was likely his final trip. He knew the carrier meant the vet, and he *hated* the vet. Mild Snoogie became the demon from hell when the vet came in the room. Sounds I've never heard would come from him, and he made them earn their money. Susan took him today, and was with him at the end. I'm not sure I could have stayed. But prior to the sedative, he was able to get one last scratch and bite in... he wasn't going to let the vet win without taking a bit of revenge. :)
Snoogie, you will be missed horribly. We have fond memories, and those will always remain. I'm glad you're no longer in pain... but letting you go really hurt.
Rest in peace, my furry friend...
Today I had to go through that event that every pet owner dreads, but eventually has to deal with... the loss of your loved furry friend. Snoogie, our cat of 16 years, lost his battle with kidney disease, and we decided it was time to let him go and put him to sleep. Losing a pet has never hurt as much as this one did...
Snoogie came to us in a way we didn't really plan. We had gotten rid of our puppy Keshi, as we found that puppies and very young children didn't mix very well. My wife was set on a cat, which didn't do a whole lot for me. I was a dog person, not a cat lover. I had mentioned our plan to a co-worker, and within a week we got a call from her. She had found a kitten out in the field behind her house, nearly dead from the cold. She got him warmed back up, and wanted to know if we were interested. Thus, Squeaker (not yet Snoogie) entered our life...
Given his age and condition, we had to bottle feed him every few hours to get him back to normal. Of course, there was also the constant watch to make sure he wasn't having accidents all over the place. Pets at that age don't differ a whole lot from infants. To make matters even more complicated, Susan's dad had a stroke the day after we got Squeaker, and she headed off to Bellingham to be with him. So here I am, with a cat I wasn't in favor of getting, in charge of feeding and cleaning up after him. I was *not* happy...
... until Squeaker figured out the litter box on his own the next day, and was eating out of a dish without drowning himself the day after. Hmm... perhaps cats weren't so bad after all.
Why Squeaker? Well, for whatever reason, he wasn't picking up on the noises that "normal" cats make. His meow was more of a squeak, distinctive enough that it earned him his name. But somewhere along the way, the kitten talk had Susan calling him Snoogie, and the name sort of stuck. So Snoogie it became. At least he answered to it... when he wanted to. While he did eventually figure out how to meow like a normal cat, he usually restricted that to when both of us came into the kitchen after being gone for a while, and he was hungry. Once he made that fact known, he was done with the meowing. His normal form of communication was a trilling sound that he would make when you talked to him. If you came into the room and said "Snoogie?", he'd answer with a trill that went up just like a question... it was like he was answering you with "Yeah? What did you want?" I'll miss that sound...
Probably because of his rough start in life, he was perfectly happy laying on top of someone or bundled up in some piece of fabric. The tighter you snuggled him, the happier he was. And I had to admit... he *was* cute.
Over the years, he grew up with the family. Normally very calm and mild-mannered, he had an evil streak that came out occasionally. For some reason, he thought stalking and attacking Ian was great sport when Ian was younger. Snoogie would sit in the dining room, just watching Ian. Ian knew what was coming, and he didn't know whether to make a dash for it or use the hallway instead. Not being the brightest kid (wearing shorts, no less), he'd run through the dining room, allowing Snoogie to do his "lion attacking the wildebeest" imitation. I'm sure Ian still has scars on his legs from those "good times."
Snoogie also "remodeled" my mancave many years ago. We used to let him have the run of the house, including the basement area where I hang out. One day we came home, and Snoogie was looking rather messy, with some dirt and spider webs on his fur. I went downstairs to find four panels of the suspended ceiling broken on the floor, along with bent support railings. To this day, I *still* don't know how he got in there. That was the end of his basement roaming privileges. I'll remember him every time I look at the crooked rails and cracked panel now.
As an indoor cat, he longed for the times he could make his great escapes into the outdoors. If the door wasn't completely closed, he could and would work to pry it open. It took us a while to learn that if he got out, it was best *not* to chase after him, as he would just keep running until you got tired. It was best just to walk out, talk to him as he sniffed stuff, and then pick him up and return him to the safe (but boring) confines of the house.
Snoogie almost didn't make it to the age of seven. During Lotusphere 2003, I got a call from my wife. Snoogie wasn't eating or drinking, and appeared to be in some degree of distress. She took him to the vet, and they saw some blockage in the intestinal area. It would cost $1500 to do the exploratory surgery to try and correct the problem, but they still didn't know what the underlying issue would be. As a consultant making far less than I had made while working at Enron, I was scared to spend that much money with no promise that it would actually fix the problem. Yes, it sounds cold to put a price tag on what your pet's life is worth, but I've never been able to see myself spending thousands of dollars on health care for an animal. Not that I think people who do so are wrong... I just can't do it. Anyway, we decided we'd pay for the surgery, and see what happened. They found adhesions that had kinked the intestine, and they were able to break it up and start his recovery. Fortunately, he survived that operation and had no other problems over the years. The running joke was that after year five, he had amortized his surgery enough that he was worth it. :)
Over the last couple of years, he developed a fascination with my robe from the Boardwalk hotel at Disneyworld. It was white plush terry cloth that he could sink into. When I would lay down with it on, he immediate came over and assumed his rightful place draped over my arm and shoulder, kneading his claws in the fabric and purring loud enough to be heard in the other room. If I started to stroke the white patch of fur between his eyes, he'd nearly go into a trance of ecstasy. Kitty heaven...
When Marie Scott, Gabriella Davis, and I wrote the Sametime Administration Guide in 2011, we snuck in pictures of our pets in various screen captures. Snoogie made his print debut as the Sametime Mobile Kitty, the background cheesecake image for the software icon on my iPhone. At the time, it was a cute thing to do... Now, it will be a memorial to him.
As I write this, I feel the pain of his absence acutely. Baxter, our other cat, is not a cuddler, so there's no replacement for our reading and nap kitty. No longer will I sit down to read, only to have Snoogie appear with a little trill, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to make room for him in *his* favorite position. I won't be able to walk up to him on the dishwasher, start rubbing behind his ears with his face cupped in my hands, as he buries his forehead in my chest. Opening a new bag of kitty kibble will not be as much fun any more, as he'd attack the fresh kibble like we had never fed him before. He won't be balanced on the edge of the dishwasher, reaching out as far as he can, trying to "help" us with the milk container. I swear he could actually say "milk"... No more contorting Snoogie into all sorts of positions to get comfortable, without a hint of a struggle or care from him. So long as he was close and you were rubbing his belly, he was happy. Rub the underside of his paw, and his toes would splay out... Flip him on his back to trim his nails, and he'd just lay there cradled in your legs without a fuss.
Even though I suspected it was coming for the last few months, and knew without a doubt for the last week, the raw emotions of saying good bye was hard... trying to stick him into the carrier and zip the top, while he tried to pop back out... knowing that it was likely his final trip. He knew the carrier meant the vet, and he *hated* the vet. Mild Snoogie became the demon from hell when the vet came in the room. Sounds I've never heard would come from him, and he made them earn their money. Susan took him today, and was with him at the end. I'm not sure I could have stayed. But prior to the sedative, he was able to get one last scratch and bite in... he wasn't going to let the vet win without taking a bit of revenge. :)
Snoogie, you will be missed horribly. We have fond memories, and those will always remain. I'm glad you're no longer in pain... but letting you go really hurt.
Rest in peace, my furry friend...
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Comments
Posted by Corey Davis At 21:25:44 On 30/12/2011 | - Website - |
Posted by Ben Poole At 03:20:04 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
Posted by Femke Goedhart At 03:25:38 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
Posted by Warren Elsmore At 03:52:51 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
Euthanasia is a terrible obligation/responsiblity for we pet owners but I think it's a humane kindness we can offer our pets who are suffering as hard as it is on us.
You'll have lots of bitter sweet memories of him. I know you'll feel very sad. Not for too long I hope.
Posted by Jason Hook At 04:10:27 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
Posted by Susan Bulloch At 06:57:59 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
I'm so sorry for our loss!
Posted by Ray Bilyk At 08:29:04 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
The day I had to put down our first cat, which was really my cat (she didn't like anyone except me), I was surprised how emotional the rest of the family became. But the best memory I have of that cat was, one day at the vet, I asked why there was a red stripe on her file. The answer was that it is a reminder to the vet that my cat was, well, very difficult to handle in the office (bites, scratches, howls, etc.) I took that as a personal source of pride in my cat.
Sorry for your loss of such a great, furry friend.
Posted by Gregg Eldred At 09:15:30 On 31/12/2011 | - Website - |
I'm very sorry for your loss and I understand how you feel. I lost my Yellow Lab Bailey back in November after 14 1/2 years with her. Still talk to her when I walk into the house...
Posted by Denny Russell At 10:24:03 On 04/01/2012 | - Website - |
Posted by Dove Ronai At 13:09:36 On 06/01/2012 | - Website - |
Posted by Roberto Boccadoro At 03:25:56 On 09/01/2012 | - Website - |