This morning, at 6:40 am MDT, my Munchkin crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. With a soft little cry so unlike her strong, sassy meow, a light stretch and a fall back, she passed from this world into the next. She was 18 years old by my estimation-- but since she started her life on the streets and then in my mom's backyard before she adopted Mom, she may have been much older.
She straddled the line precisely between tuxedo cat and cow cat-- the former have more black than white, the latter more white than black. She had wonderfully soft fur, and for some reason brushes didn't work unless she had mats. Nothing quite worked like her grooming her own self. Of course, that meant hairballs in the warmer months. Goodbye, clean carpet. Sorry, but you just don't matter as much as a happy cat.
As a youngster, she was briefly overweight. She couldn't reach a terrible mat right above her tail, and I ended up needing to use coconut oil and a lot of elbow grease to get it out. After that, Munchkin started to lose weight and got down to her ideal weight all by herself. She took a lot of pride in her appearance, and never again was she going to let herself get too fat to properly groom herself!
She developed many health problems as she got older-- hyperthyroidism from a hormone-producing nodule, rapid heart rate leading to a murmur, high liver enzymes, and what the vet called an autoimmune gum disease, leading to the loss of about half her teeth including 3 out of 4 canines. But none of that seriously slowed her down until very recently.
Oh, she had a few blips in the last six months: an illness at the end of January, a bad habit she started in April of ripping out her excess winter fur and tearing the skin, leaving nasty wounds; a slow but steady emaciation throughout. But she retained good spirits, a healthy appetite, and an adventurous spirit up practically till the end.
Until yesterday. Even Colorado couldn't escape the heat wave this summer, and these 90 degree+ temperatures were pretty rough on my little girl. And last weekend, three days in a row of triple digits, felt like walking into a pizza oven.
Munchkin would walk into the fridge or freezer whenever I opened it, so I would start leaving her bowls full of ice cubes, which she appreciated. She spent more time in the cool basement, which she always did during the hottest days, but yesterday she seemed strangely lethargic, lying at the bottom of the stairs on the cool concrete floor. She needed me to almost put food in her mouth instead of biting into it herself.
I petted her, and put food and ice cubes in the basement near her. Luckily, yesterday was a bit cooler, about 15 degrees less than the previous three days. I went to work, came back... and watched her walk. She'd get up, walk a few feet, then have to sit back down. Including to the water dish. She took three small sips, then sank toward the ground on her side next to the dish. Get up, walk a bit, get tired, sit or lie back down, over and over again. I had seen that exact same movement pattern with Rocky and Andy before. The end was almost here.
So yesterday afternoon and evening was spent making Munchkin as comfortable as possible. She stopped eating her cat food or the Friskies Lil Gravies I mixed her thyroid medication into, but she did eat deli turkey and shredded cheddar cheese. Her mouth held all the gusto her body no longer had!
I also took advantage of the cooler evening by taking her outside and laying her down on the nice cool grass. I bundled her up in a towel and took her to visit the neighbors, who had gotten to know her over the years from her occasional outdoor adventures. (Fully vaxed and spayed of course!) One neighbor a street away said they had seen her a few times on their Ring camera drinking out of their fountain. After confirming that it only contained clean water, I let my girl have some drinks from the fountain, and then laid her on their front lawn to relax and be petted and loved by me and the neighbor kids.
I spent my whole evening like this until about 9:30-- carrying her to visit people, letting her relax in cool surroundings, feeding her turkey and cheese and giving her sips of water. Before I went to bed, I placed her on a soft towel right next to the water dishes in case she got the energy to take a drink. I woke up at 2:30, spent a little time with her before heading back to sleep, then awoke at 6:00 to get ready for work, and she was amazingly still alive. I carried her and the towel upstairs to my end, and spent her last few minutes loving her until 6:40 am.
I couldn't have asked for her passing to be quieter or more peaceful. I hope she knew every last minute how loved and precious she really was.
I love you, precious girl, Munch Kitty Munchkin. Thank you for being a part of my life, and my family's life.