Old old cat Natalie left us yesterday. Not “left” as in died, though I think this is most likely the case. “Left” as in I let her out early in the morning, as I have almost every morning for years, she walked around the corner of the house, and hasn’t been seen since. Nat the Cat is (was?) old, though nobody knows quite how old since we’re at least her fourth family. She wandered over to my son’s place here at Oak Point from where she was raised–or at least was staying at the time–and simply stayed. When Matt moved to Pennsylvania we didn’t think she’d want to move since Matt had married into three other cats, so my father, who lived next to Matt here at the Point, took her in.
By this time Nat had some age on her, and my father had a lot of it on him, so they were a good match. Several years ago my father passed away and Natalie finally had to leave Oak Point and come live with us some 130 miles away. She tolerated it OK, toleration being something felines do pretty well when there’s no alternative, but Oak Point was always home to her. Since I retired two years ago Natalie has moved south to Virginia with us each winter, grudgingly I think, but very obviously happy every spring when we move back to Oak Point. She’d been with us for 15 years, and came to us as an adult. We have owned a dog and have had several cats own us, but Nat the Cat is by far the best pet we’ve ever had. One of her favorite places, especially during inclement weather, was curled up on my wife’s computer desk between the keyboard and monitor, making it very convenient to receive attention. Katy brushed her every night, and Nat spent every evening curled up next to her on the sofa, and at our feet every night.
Nat had lost quite a bit of weight in the past few weeks, and we were going to take her to the veterinarian yesterday for blood tests. My daughter-in-law is a small animal vet and sight unseen gave potential diagnoses of worms, kidney disease, diabetes or cancer. Since we don’t think it was worms, and all of the other most likely causes have very grim prognoses, perhaps it’s best that Nat decided to take matters into her own hands. Or paws. Whatever. What I think happened, and (since it’s been almost to days) at this point hope happened, is that she found a comfortable place in the shade and went to sleep for the last time. I tell myself that this is a better outcome for all of us, Nat and Katy and me, since the alternatives were suffering or euthanasia. This is all true, but it still hurts.