Monday, August 17, 2009

Given the choice, I'd choose veterinary care.

It's mighty quiet around here these days now that Itty Bit is gone.

She had a punishingly loud and extraordinarily insistent meow, probably because she was hearing impaired (aka, deaf) and could not hear herself. But everyone else could and for the past nine years, it was not unusual to have callers exclaim, "Aw, Itty!" and then crack up laughing at the other end of the phone line.

Itty was always yowling for something -- food, kisses, food, head scratching, food and food, mostly. Of course I noticed she was getting more frantic about food, yet losing weight. I noticed other changes. I've been adopted by many cats over the years and know when a cat is dying. I knew this was the case for Itty.

The veterinarian came to my home. She examined Itty, explained options, and listened carefully to me. She let nearly thirty minutes elapse between administering sedation and the injection that stopped Itty's heart. She sat with me the entire time and then went quietly about the business of taking stuff out to her van before coming back for Itty's body. The vet arrived at 6:30 and left at 8:30 PM.

If I become terminally ill, please call my veterinarian.

Photo of Itty Bit by Michael Mancuso