In Memory of M

This post is dedicated to my cat, whom I call "M", also know as "sexy boy" and "chicken".

When I was 5 years old, my mom had brought home a kitten from a coworker whose cat gave birth to kittens. I was super excited because it was so adorable and soft. Unfortunately as a 5 year old, I had no idea how to handle it. More like mishandled it. Plus dad was never a fan of pets so the kitten was given back the next day. I was very sad. I then asked my mom when could I have a cat, and she replied "when you turn 10".

Well, 5 years later I still remembered that promise, and when I was nearing 11, I asked....where's my cat? She then had the look on her face like "oh crap, how did she remember?! I didn't even remember?!"

In December 1997, my brother, mom and I made a trip to the Humane Society and went to look for a kitten. There was a small area where all the kittens were held and on that day, they didn't have many selections. After browsing through, I couldn't find a kitten that I really liked. We were on the verge of leaving when the staff started bringing a few more kittens. So we waited until they were unloaded. We stepped in once again to see. In this one kennel held 4 kittens. 3 kittens were at the door meowing and pawing. I then saw one orange/white tabby and said "that one!" Well, "that one" was hiding in the back behind the 3 kittens up front. He looked about a month old or less. So tiny, but so cute. He was adopted and taken home.

And from that day on, we called him M, sexy boy, and chicken.

The first day we brought M home, we got him to get familiar with the environment. So M started walking up and down the stairs, sniffing out where his litter box would be, and his place of sleep, food, everything. When my dad came home from work, you can imagine what his reaction was. "WHAT IS THAT THING?! AND WHY IS IT IN THE HOUSE?!"

This time though, all 3 of us said we are keeping M. He is staying and is our newest addition to our family.

The first night was hard because we didn't want M to run around or scratch anything, so dad suggested we put him in the basement. The entire night we heard M howling. The next morning, we told him he is never being put in the basement again. We moved his bed upstairs, closer to everyone. Eventually as we got used to him, and seeing he wasn't peeing or pooing everywhere, we all left our doors open for him to sleep with us.

M used to love jumping on my bed and walk over to my table and knock things over as he tried to pass through. There were times he didn't mean to, and then times he purposely did it so I would get up to feed him. But generally speaking, M was a good boy. He wouldn't start meowing until my foot stepped on the floor. If I was still in bed, he would just stare. He also had a habit of walking across the pillow, but not actually touching our heads. In a way, it was his sign of saying "I'm hungry, please feed me".

As a kitten, M loved attention. He would climb up to our laps during meal times and plop himself down and start sleeping. It was the most adorable thing ever. He did that mostly with mom, because he knew that she was mommy. It was all the warmth that kept him so safe and happy. There were times I fell asleep on the chair, and he would climb up and plop himself in my arms and fall asleep.

I remember the first time I saw him plopped on my bed. I almost freaked out because there was going to be a bunch of fur everywhere. However, that's what lint rollers are for. So we all got used to it when we found him sleeping in our beds. We just had to make sure we cleaned all the fur off. During the early years, he would take turns sleeping with all of us on our beds. I think knowing that he was around one of us for the night made him feel safer and warm.

I taught him how to open doors, just for fun. I never knew he would actually catch on to it, but over the years it benefited him when he was scared of guests and wanted to hide. This is why we called him chicken. Because he was afraid of people he didn't know. As soon as a doorbell rang, he would run upstairs, go to one of the bedrooms, and start touching the closest handle. Eventually he got the door open and he would make his hiding place there. He then used that to learn how to open closet sliding doors to hide in as well. Over the years, he made the closet his sleeping place if he didn't want to sleep in his bed.

M is an indoor cat but we let him out during the summer months for him to get some fresh air. The first few times we accompanied him outside to help him get familiar with the backyard, and also taught him to not go under the fence. He never climbed fences. One day, we noticed he hadn't come back for some time and went out to look for him. He wasn't in the backyard. That's when all of us got all panicked. We called his name, looked under the tree and bush, but there was nothing. We went back inside and were trying to figure out what to do next when we heard this weird knocking sound coming from the front entrance. We went to the front door, opened it, and we saw him standing on 2 feet, pawing at the outside enclosure door knob. He must have went under the fence and realized things didn't look familiar to him. He found a door, and started to paw at the door handle. Thankfully that door was our enclosure door. Since that day, he hasn't repeated it. M was so smart.

M gained weight during his early adult years and the heaviest was around 23 pounds. His appetite was really good. But we knew he had to start shedding some pounds as it was not good for him. We played with him more and made him run around more. M is just like a little brother. He was always so happy.

M never scratched furniture, never made a mess on the floor, never attacked anyone, never went through garbage and made a mess. He did drink out of the toilet bowl a few times, so we had to make sure the top was completely covered. After that he stopped doing that. But he was never a bad cat. He was a good boy who listened and he learned to not repeat the same mistakes.

A few years ago we noticed him throwing up undigested and digested food. At first we thought oh maybe just hairball, or maybe just cleaning out his system. But it became more frequent. The vet diagnosed him with hyperthyroidism, and they also noticed a slight heart murmur, because his heart rate seemed a bit faster than normal cats. He was put on thyroid medication, and dosing would have to be adjusted according to blood work results. In a way, it was like a human getting old and having to take pills for their health issues. It was sad because then it hit me...M is aging just like the rest of us. To me, he was still this small kitten we took home years ago. But as long as he was on the medication, he would feel better and live longer.

With hyperthyroidism, when the "T-4" levels become very high, it overstimulates the body's organs. It speeds up metabolism so M would eat a lot but would lose weight. His body was not absorbing the important nutrients and calories. It overworks the heart, which meant his heart was beating faster and working faster. It can also affect the kidney, which can lead to kidney problems. Thankfully his kidneys were normal. We saw M drop from 23 pounds to 8 pounds in less than a year. That's like saying someone who weighed 200 pounds dropping to 80 pounds. It was a huge ratio. But after starting the medications, his diet slowly improved and he started to gain some weight back.

Even on medication, he was still a happy boy. He wasn't as active or playful as when he was younger, but he was still so cute. Every time he saw me, he would try to run, or he would give up and lay down on the floor because he knew I was coming to carry him. Because I loved him so dearly. As I got older and busy with school, I was not able to play with him as much as when I was a kid.

M was there through many of life's milestones. M saw me graduate from elementary school, from high school, from university, saw me achieve my piano diploma, my first job, and the start of my career, my first real relationship, my first car. M saw my brother get married, meet his "nieces" (because we always joked he became an uncle), saw him start his career as well, his first house. M saw my parents both retire, birthday milestones, anniversary milestones. M was truly like a little brother and a son to us. We have been so blessed that we could share many milestones with him.

On November 26, 2015 (the American Thanksgiving Day), I noticed him laying on the floor, very weak, and using his accessory muscles to breathe. Few days before, he didn't look as sick, but he was always sleeping. He walked mostly to the washroom, or to eat or drink. But most of the time remained in bed. And that's the thing, cats are good at hiding their problems. But this day was very different than the rest. We took him to the vet, and the vet found he had some fluids in his lungs. He gave him a Lasix shot to make him pee out the fluids. He was also prescribed a heart medication along with Lasix to help the fluid control, and to also help his heart. And that if he wasn't taking the medications, he would have to come back the next morning to get another shot.

He was brought home and urinated. Then he went back to his bed and started to sleep. But then his breathing was getting worse. He would be very restless, using all his accessory muscles to breathe. He would climb out of his box and lay on the floor, to be in various positions to help him breathe easier. Eventually he crawled to the vent. He knew there was air shooting out from there, and was putting his face over the vent to breathe. We took him to the hospital as this was a terrible thing to witness and experience. He was going into congestive heart failure, and it was affecting his lungs. They put him on oxygen and IV drips to help calm him down.

The attending vet came to us to deliver some bad news. His prognosis was very poor. He had multiple issues that even with all the tests and medical interventions, he can't guarantee he would live until the next morning. We had a couple options. Either keep him there for the night and pay all the fees to do the tests to sustain his life, or euthanize him. This was the most difficult decision of our lives. It hurt my parents and I that we had to come to this agreement and conclusion in a short time. There were many tears, and many uncertainties but yet we still had hope that he would pull through. That he would still be with us for a little bit longer.

Eventually we made a decision, but it was none of the above. We wanted to take him home. If he passed away, we wanted him to be at home and not in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of tubes and machines, and with no family beside him.

Of course the vet and technicians kept trying to tell us that was against medical advice. I didn't care. I signed the papers to release him. When they brought him back out in the kennel, they guided us to a smaller room, because they were still trying to convince us to put him out of his misery. It was at this point that we opened the door, and saw our sweet M laying there, his condition unchanged. He seemed to be breathing a bit louder than before. I saw his poor arm, bandaid up from where they inserted an IV. By this time I had lost it. I started to cry non stop. My parents were the ones consoling M, petting him, and telling him we are going home M. You're not staying here but we're bringing you home. And I think M understood because he tried to move his head so he could see us better, but he was so weak. We saw a tear shed from his eye and roll down his furry face. It was the most heartbreaking thing to witness.

We got him loaded up into our car and made the 15 minute journey home. Along the way, we kept telling him we are going home, we are going home. We are almost home M. We love you. We love you very much. Be a strong boy. You are a fighter. We love you.

About 5 minutes from home, as I was driving, I heard a loud sigh. And then silence. And I knew...I just knew at that point, he was gone. But they say, hearing is the last sense to go. So we kept telling him we love him. When we finally got home, we rushed inside to open the kennel. Unfortunately, M was already gone. But he was home. And that's the most important thing. We cried, we caressed him, and we told him he was so brave. He held on for so long, because he knew he was coming home. He was happy and relieved he wasn't staying in hospital. He was coming home to be with his family.

M died approximately at 10:25pm, November 26, 2015 at 18 years old, with us by his side.

Words cannot describe my sorrow and hurt. Here I am writing in tears, because I am still mourning. But I am hoping this would at least release some stress and sorrow. I want to share my experience of having a pet to people, because they are not just some animals that you feed and take care of. They become part of your family. And M was part of our family for over half my life, starting at a very young age. He had a very good and happy life being with us. I know things get better over time, and to look at the positives, but it becomes hard when you see them struggling during the last hours of their life.

But I do know one thing, that M is finally home. He's sleeping peacefully. And he will be watching over us. He loves us and we love him.