I'll be real, I don't entirely know how to go about this. My website started with my buddy prominently on the front page, and then soon after he passed away.
I couldn't face my site for a while after that. This labor of love I made was a hurtful reminder of what I'd lost. I knew one day I'd be ready to move on, but I needed time to heal.
One thing was for certain though. I didn't want to remove him from the front page until I made a page dedicated to his memory. And I didn't want to leave the sadness about my late cat on the front page. So, to move forward, I need to do this.
Let's talk about my buddy.
handsome fella
I was never good at taking pictures. I don't know how to operate a camera to save my life and I almost never did. I regret that I do not have many of my lil buddy, but I cherish every one I do have. Including the blurry and the awkward.
One night in 2015, I had a friend over and he was staying the night with my mom and I. We went out to pick up dinner and as we returned home, we found a cat was stuck on our roof. My friend helped to get them down; a very personable and friendly grey cat.
I don't remember how exactly we decided to, but we ended up taking them in. The cat was so soft and nice and good with people. But kinda really hostile towards the other cat we had. But over the next week or so, they learned to co-exist.
After a week or so, we came home once again on another night and as we left the car, we heard meowing. The grey cat was stuck in our tree! They must have gotten out without us noticing when we left. Well, we took them back in.
I had a funny thought. "Hey mom, could you imagine if you end up seeing two grey cats in the same place because that was a different cat we just brought in?"
Later that night, I hear a "Holy sh*t!" from the other room.
So. We now had two grey cats.
The first one, we had named Sooty after her grey fur. So, this second one, my mom named Smokey. He was smaller than Sooty, not yet fully grown. We figured that she was his mom. But she did not want anything to do with him. She was even more hostile towards him than she was our other cat, and unlike before, this wasn't improving.
Unfortunately, we couldn't really take care of 3 cats anyway, and since she was the unappeasable one, we had to give her away. Sometimes I do wonder about her.
Smokey, we kept.
(All of the images I have of him are from a couple of years later, so he's full grown.)
He was an energetic cat. Often running around, doing the "zoomies" as it were. He'd meow a lot. A LOT. Whether it got our attention or otherwise. If we were talking to each other, he'd want to be part of the conversation.
He was like that a lot honestly, curious and inquisitive. Sometimes to a frustrating degree :p
He always wanted to be involved in whatever I was doing. If I was playing a game, he wanted to check out the controller. If I was in the kitchen, he'd follow me and meow non-stop and jump on the counters. And of course he loved keyboards. Normal cat behavior.
(In fact, he'd often inadvertently send scrambled chains of characters to my friends on Discord. This is how he earned himself a nickname from them: "Mr. Paws".)But something different than I was used to, was that it was my attention in particular that he wanted. By no means did he ignore my mom, but if he could be he'd always be by my side. Following me everywhere I go around the house, bolting out to where I'm headed every time I get up, racing me up and down the stairs, darn near breaking my neck.
He'd always nudge me and bunt my face and my hands and loved being pet on his belly and he was super chill with being picked up. I never had a cat I could pick up before. I never had a cat that actually liked belly rubs. He'd play fetch, and bring you stuff around the house he wanted you to throw for him.
And he was pretty needy. I'd be laying down, trying to get some rest, and he'd constantly paw at me and paw at my face. That's something he'd do a lot, paw at you to get your attention. Paw at your face or your arm. His claws often got stuck in my shirt when he'd do this and I'd have to help him get it out T_T
Unfortunately, his neediness meant I couldn't sleep with him around. He wouldn't let me. So I had to close my door and not let him in. He'd have to wait for me in the morning.
Typically, he'd already be in my room, and I'd need him to leave. It used to be that he'd follow me out, but the bro was smart. He picked up on it pretty quick, and would not leave my room during the night unless I picked him up and placed him out. He'd also charge back in if he could. And any time I had to use the restroom or leave my room in the middle of the night for any reason, it was a battle to get by unnoticed.
Because he'd always be there. Waiting for me again. Every morning when I woke up, I opened my bedroom door and was greeted by him, meowing and rubbing against my legs, happy to see me again.
I... never had a pet so drawn to me before.
Eventually I had to admit, I loved this cat more than I loved any other pet I'd ever had. He had fit himself so integerally into my life. I couldn't imagine life without him.
I'm going to stop here for a minute and warn you. If all you want to read is the happy parts, maybe go ahead and skip down to the video at the bottom, skimming the images along the way if you'd like.
Over the 10 years he was with us, our adventurous feline faced quite a few challenges.
I used to let him go outside. Generally we keep our cats indoors, and this was the case for him too, but I stopped really fighting him trying to run out, because he'd been good at coming back when he was hungry.
But one night he came home with a rough injury. He'd gotten in a fight with another cat, and his eyebrow was injured, holding on by a thread of flesh. It was really scary, and we took him immediately to an urgent care, paying out of pocket.
We don't really have much in the way of funds, and could barely afford to take him in at all. But we couldn't afford the cost for them to stitch him up. They had us buy some cheap antibiotics for him and it was the best we could do. I was really scared, but it actually healed up surprisingly well. You can kinda notice something's there, but you wouldn't guess just how bad it was. He's a real trooper.
Unfortunately for all of us, that was only the beginning.
A few years later I started to notice he had a bit of a fang on one side. I didn't think much of it at the time, just a tiny bit of his tooth poked out over his lip. I occasionally called him "Fang" as a nickname. I wish I knew what it really meant.
That tooth got longer over time, and I realized something was up. But we were low income and couldn't afford the vet bill... but eventually I persuaded my mom to take him. It took a while before a vet could see him though, as they were all booked.
I thought we could do something to fix the tooth, but I guess we were too late. While we waited in the lobby, without really telling us the plan, the vet had pulled his tooth. Between the visit, medication, and pulling the tooth, it was over $400. They wanted another $1400 to do a proper tooth cleaning, but I hate to keep saying there was no possible way we could pay for it.
So now our poor little guy was missing a canine. But he was strong, and it felt like nothing really changed. He just had to eat with one side of his mouth is all. Rather, he quickly started doing better, compared to having a loose and painful tooth before.
Or he was, for a while there. There was a time he got out and this time didn't come back. I would call for him again and again, for several nights. We hung up missing posters where we could around the neighborhood. Reported him missing, got our neighbors to help look for him. But after about 3 nights, he found his way back home, and I was so relieved. I was so scared to have lost him.
Then he started coughing.
We hoped it was temporary, but it kept happening, and more often. He'd enter coughing fits and struggle breathing, until catching himself. Again, we took him back to the vet. The same as before. They didn't really examine him. They gave us antibiotics to give him, and a steroid shot, and sent us on our way. Another $100 or so out of pocket.
It worked, for a little bit at least. Probably the steroid shot. But the coughs came back. We couldn't afford to keep going to the vet like this without solving the issue... so we weren't really sure what to do.
Some weeks would be better than others. Sometimes he'd cough every day, sometimes he wouldn't cough at all for like a week or so, and we tried to see what we could do to keep it that way.
Then at one point, I noticed something. "Is it just me or is his tooth a little long?"
It was happening again. His other canine tooth was falling out. But we were really short on money. We really couldn't afford another $400+ to have his tooth pulled. Begrudgingly, we decided to wait for it to "fall out" on its own.
Absolute idiots.
He started throwing up. Whole, undigested food. We'd clean it up. I was worried about him. We thought he might not be chewing properly because of his bad tooth. So we got him wet food.
But he still got sick. My mom and I would argue. Is it because of the way he's eating, is it because of the pain from his tooth, or is it something else? Should we feed him wet food or can he eat the dry food just fine? Like before, sometimes he'd go a whole week without an incident, before his sickness would come back.
He was getting weaker, not as energetic. Still had that energy sometimes, but it felt like he was more and more tired. Of course he's getting older, but...
His breathing became sharp, we thought from the tooth pain. He was eating less. I progressively became more scared for him.
"Mom... I want to take him to a vet."
"... Okay."
I made sure I looked up the best vet I could find reviews for in town. I didn't want to take any chances this time with a vet who'd hardly look at him. I wanted our money to be put to use properly. The soonest appointment was that Thursday. Halloween 2024.
By Wednesday, he wouldn't eat at all. That night, I laid in bed restless. Surely the vet can help. We could remove the tooth, he'd stop being in pain, and we'd give him medicine again and maybe we can fix his cough and things would be fine.
I laid there, worrying about him, worrying about his sickness. Feeling like I was a terrible pet owner, having failed to treat him properly. He was locked outside my room again, like any other night, as I had to pick him up and set him out again so I could sleep.
But I wasn't sleeping anyway.
So I got up, and I opened the door. He was there, laying outside my door like always. I returned to my bed. He jumped up to join me. He layed on my chest as I could barely make out his sillhouette in the dark. I pet him softly, and told him how much I loved and cared about him. "I really, really need you to be okay."
The next day, we took him to the vet. Like every trip, he was scared in the car, as he layed in his cat carrier and heard the noises and felt vibrations he wasn't used to. He'd always meow back there in fear, as we assured him everything will be okay. It's going to be okay sweetheart. We're getting you help.
We enter the waiting room, sign in, and sit and wait. The place is extremely busy. There's a lot of pet owners, with all of the fanciest breeds that made me feel like this place was well beyond our level. But it was the least we owed him.
We waited for 2 hours before we were seen. We brought them into the room. "Wow, okay that breathing is not good. How long has he been breathing like that?"
"Like that? A little over a week. But he's had a cough for a long time."
She brought Smokey back to see the doctor. Brought him back. "Okay, so it's heart failure... and it's pretty bad. He needs immediate care. It'd run at least $1000. I don't know if you want us to try to care for him or if you want to put him to rest..."
Heart failure?! This was so much worse than I thought. I was on my phone, looking into financing options. "I don't know, but we need to get him on an IV immediately or he's not going to make it. It's a wonder he even made it here."
What the hell. What the hell. What the hell. She brings us a quote, it'd be over $1600 to treat him.... here, before they transfer him to a hospital for far more intensive care, which they had no price quote for but it'd be several thousands.
this was impossible. we had.... to choose euthanasia.
The doctor later came in and explained the situation to us. His heart had swollen, to the point it was pressing against his lungs, which was causing his breathing issues. He said that they don't typically come back from this, even with all the medical care in the world, and he's seen wealthy people spend over 20 grand trying to pull their cats from the brink only to still fail. He told us we were making the right choice.
Maybe. The only choice we really had left now. But I can't help but constantly think about if we got him checked out sooner. If we didn't avoid taking him in for the tooth. If they discovered this sooner. Would he still be here, cozed up by my side? I failed him. And for what, to save around $400?
That wasn't the last choice for me to make. "Do you want to come back and be with him for his final moments?" What
What What What What
"You'll regret it if you're not there."
I was an emotional wreck. I was not remotely ready to watch my buddy die. "It's up to you," my mom said. I agreed to.
She says she'll return, they need to strap him down first, then sedate him. But then someone comes through the door. "We need to do it now, he's crashing."
So uh, they did it without us after all. He didn't make it to being restrained and sedated. He didn't get his peaceful sendoff. We weren't there with him.
When my mom and I were alone in the room, I broke down sobbing.
"Do you want to see him?"
What?! Do I want to see... his dead body? "I don't know."
"It's up to you," my mom said again. "Why is it up to me???"
I'll admit I wasn't rationally handling the situation, but that's to be expected. She decided to bring him in anyway. And...
Y'know. In my emotional state, I didn't really consider how a dead body looks. I imagined him limp, eyes closed, looking like he's sleeping except he isn't breathing.
Oh, how I wish that was what I saw. His eyes were wide open. His mouth was ajar. His legs were outstretched and his body stiff. He looked like a taxidermy. I broke down even harder.
This image would haunt me for a good while. This being the last time I ever saw him. The last memory I ever had of him. I never, ever wanted to see him like that.
She came back with a binder. "I don't know what you want to do with him, if you have somewhere to bury him or we offer cremation services..." She opens the binder. Urns for sale. Different urns for different prices. Is she cutting a sale right now?
She flips the page to show other momentos they have. Pendants to keep some of his ashes in. A clay ball with his paw print for $25. She left to give us time to talk it over. I let it out again, for my mom. I was so upset. They want to sell us his paw print? They want to take his corpse like a puppet and press his dead paw against a piece of clay and sell it to us for $25?! This feels so, so wrong. I was infuriated.
She came back. "Have you made a decision?" We picked out the urn. She asked if I wanted the paw print. She even offered it for free. I adamantly refused. The idea of them making that with his dead body just... felt disrespectful. I don't know. I wasn't okay.
Sure, I wish I had his pawprint as a momento. But not made after his death.
Our bill was around $400.
We drove home, with an empty cat carrier.
It's been 2 and a half months since that day. I was absolutely distraught at first, but I knew I'd have to move on in time. And I made an effort to not let grief consume me. But I have my limits. I just... had to keep my mind off it.
At first, I couldn't really, but my friends were very helpful. I made one update to my website, to update what happened and that I was going to be gone. And I had to step away. Like I said, he was the main star of my page. I couldn't face it for a while. Even now, it's still hard, thinking about him, retelling this.
The thing about how he involved himself in every aspect of my life is, it meant I couldn't do literally anything without thinking of him. I'd open my door every morning after a night's rest and expect to see him run in. I'd get up to use the restroom in the middle of the night and be on my guard for a cat who'd never come. I get to work in the kitchen and expect him to be traipsing by. And every time, his presence is sorely missed.
I've had a couple of opportunities to get a new cat. My dad even offered us one he rescued just a month after it all happened. We said it was too soon.
I'm not opposed to having another cat someday. I love cats, but it was really hard for me to embrace that love again after his passing. But right now, if I got another cat I'd just be trying to fill the void he leaves behind. I'd want this cat to be Smokey. I'd compare him to Smokey. Anything he didn't do like Smokey would disappoint me. I can't do that to a cat. So I'm not ready.
But, I'm ready to live my life again. I want to return to the old web, and web-building again. So I'm writing this page. In honor of my best buddy, hopefully to be immortalized online. Smoky, Mr. Paws. You were my dearest treasure.
I said a lot of gloomy stuff here in the end, and there hasn't been any images in a while. But I do want to leave this off with one more thing. As I was looking for what photos I could pull together for this page, I charged an old phone I haven't used in years and found an old clip on it. It was simple, but it was him. I never was satisfied with the photos I've taken. But this... I'm really glad to have this.
We'll never forget you, Smokey Paws.