Goodnight, Capt'n Thwack; your ship is sailing.

The last few days have been very sad for us. Our little old man, Whisper, finally decided to cash his check. We referred to him as the Timex cat, since during his 18 long years, he defied the three death sentences he'd been handed by several vets. Even 15 months ago, when we were told he was dying, he once again flipped up his middle claw and said he'd go when he was damn good and ready. Tuesday morning, we rushed him to the vet's and we were told in no uncertain terms that this time, there was really no decision to be made. We didn't want him to suffer so we made arrangements.

Oddly enough, Sarah came over on Monday night to take "family" photos of the three of us. It still breaks our hearts that we never got a photo of our little family, Einschka included, as we typically were: us in the middle, Whisper on Wolf's left, Einschka to my right, on the couch, watching Family Guy (or something equally as stoopid.) She passed away last year on Halloween night with her little head in my hand. It was at that time we were told Whisper was on his way out, too. He thrilled us by making it through the holidays, New Year's Eve, and while he was at it, why not Valentine's Day, the whole summer and this Halloween, too?! Defiant as ever, he denied my invitation to the party I was planning for his 20th birthday.

Here's a great shot Sarah got on Monday night. This is how we often saw him around the house.

I took a ton of photos of him yesterday while we waited for the vet to come over. We could tell he felt awful, but he really loves to have his picture taken and posed quite often.


Years ago, Wolfgang told me that if I "died tomorrow, that cat would have no reason to live." He said he's never seen a cat love it's momma like Whisper loved me. While that may be true, he did have one other thing to live for: treats. He loved his treats and spent half the day screaming for them. (He's been deaf for a year and he's half Siamese...so it's literally screaming.) He'd been on a very strict diet, but the vet said he could have as many of his treats as he wanted. He was determined to eat every last one in his jar before checking out. (He was toothless, so it was super cute.)
He rested most of the day.
He hadn't been outside since he was a tiny kitten, so I bought him a lead and made him a sweater out of an old sweater sleeve so he wouldn't get cold. He really perked up and loved sniffing the air and crunching around in the leaves...and eating a few as well. I love this shot Wolfgang took of him looking up at me. He looked so happy.
Dr. Ken came later in the afternoon and Whisper, aka Señor Peespair (due to his love of being pissed off), aka Capt'n Thwack (due to his tail-thrashing temper-tantrums) went peacefully. He'd saved my life, twice literally, and many times figuratively. Nothing for us will quite be the same without him. He'd lived a very very long life and was much loved by us both. We miss him already.