Saturday, August 26, 2006

Apollo, the Sun God(dess, in this case)

Apollo was stretched out on the windowsill in the sunshine when we went looking for her a couple of days ago. Today she is huddled quietly under my daughter's bed, waiting to move on.

Apollo came to us as one of a litter of four, along with their mom ~ a foster family when my daughter was a sixth grade volunteer at the local animal shelter. The idea was to enjoy a family of tumbling and frolicking kittens without actually acquiring another feline. The idea was not, of course, perfected in its execution, and Apollo stayed with us.

(The name? The kids named all four kittens for Greek gods and goddesses. The kittens were very small when they arrived, and we got the genders exactly wrong.)

For most of her life, Apollo was otherwise known as Psycho-Kitty. Despite the fact that she lived entirely indoors, we seldom saw her and, when we did, she was careening around a corner, horrified at having almost made human contact.

When her kidneys began to fail last winter, she became a lot more affectionate. The vets shook their heads at the numbers (5% kidney function), pumped her up with fluids for a week, and we all watched in some amazement as she returned to what must have been Life Number 9. She remained thin as a rail and friendly enough to crawl up onto my hip to purr in the the early mornings, but otherwise she reverted to her former self.

She stopped eating again a couple of weeks ago and this time additional fluids have had no positive effect. Last night she was confused and lethargic, unsure of whether to lie on one side of the bed or the other. I told my daughter to say a last good-bye to her kitty before she left for college early this morning, and told the vet tech later that I thought Apollo was ready to be done. Then I brought her home and settled her in the peace of the Lovely Daughter's room, where there is food available should she change her mind and where she can rest in the darkness under the bed, away from the dog and away from the call back to the life in which she is no longer interested.

Rest gently, little cat.

9 comments:

Virginia said...

Oh... so sorry to hear.

Yes, you are right. Rest gently, Apollo.

Peace, Virginia

lisa c. said...

This breaks my heart. I had a kitty who was like that. For that first decade of her life, we never saw her. Then one day she came downstairs and, in a cat way, announced, "Here I am!" She died a couple of summers ago at age 19.

LightYears2Venus said...

She is lucky to have found a home which took care of her and allowed her to live out her life as a recluse. It's fortunate your daughter was able to bid her farewell. The death of a pet in the family is always hard.
*debbi*

ppb said...

so sorry to hear.

Russell Smith said...

When my wife's dog died (at her parents' home in OH -- we were living far away in NC) we wept and wept. May the Spirit comfort you and your family.

Lisa :-] said...

I hope she goes quickly. It can be a long vigil, sometimes.

Godspeed, little girl!

Globetrotter said...

I can sympathize. I hope she passes swiftly and gently. Reminds me of the passing of little Boris...

Bedazzzled1 said...

Your compassion is evident throughout this post. Apollo seems to have had the best and been the best. And now it is time for her to sleep.

::soft hug::
Nikki

Carol said...

Your compassion for Apollo shines through in this post. I hope her passing comes quickly and as painlessly as possible.