I know pet owners always say this, but my Trouble was truly one of the sweetest, friendliest cats you'd ever meet. She was so sweet she even made my roommate at the times parents get a cat. (Why you ask? She and Boo stayed with them when our apartment had a five alarm fire and we had no where to live for a couple weeks).
Trouble stayed sweet through everything life threw at her too. Through a six hour car ride at four years old all the way from Minnesota where she became an indoor cat instead of an outdoor one. Through firemen axing open a smoke and ash filled apartment while she hid under a bed with her son. Through moving to Illinois for a month to let her "parents" rebuild a home in Milwaukee after the fire. Through moving in with my (now ex) boyfriend, who in reflection was nothing but abusive to her (not hitting, but chased her, yelled at her, etc until she hid under the couch or in a corner) and through helping me start over again when all I could do was cry and it felt like the weight of the world was crushing my soul. There was sweet little Trouble, nosing her way under the covers and pushing up against my back.
She welcomed all my friends into my "new" apartment (I am starting my fifth year here now). Pushing herself between us during our LOST parties, our Mad Men parties, and well, whenever she felt like it. Nosing into our snacks; she would not be ignored, nor would she stop purring or asking to be pet by everyone in the apartment (or in the hallway if she ever made it that far).
When she was barely ten years old, she ended up getting cancer of the epithelial cells, which are basically the cells that line your organs against your other organs. So really no chance there. She got really thin, really fast and towards the end I could just tell something wasn't right. She wasn't her sweet little self, who would greet me with mews everyday when I got home from work and not leave my side until I left again in the morning. She would just hide in the closet, and gradually, just after Labor Day, I noticed she was swelling with fluid because her cells were breaking down and giving up.
She was unhappy, she couldn't move comfortably, hid in the closer all of the time and seemed ashamed of the fact that she had lost control of her bladder. One day, in between vet visits, i just looked at my girl and realized I couldn't put her through that anymore, so two of my best friends went with me to let her go. The vet thought she probably had three days left at the most. It was tremendously sad, and we looked like the most unusual little family (my best friend his wife and I), but we all loved her. Just like almost everyone who met her did.
Cancer's a bitch. In humans and pets alike. Hug yours tonight!
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