Farewell, My Ziggy Boy

Ziggy and I had a good eight plus years together. Today is my first full day without him and I miss him terribly. The picture on the left is the one I had on my office bulletin board. I retrieved it this morning. I hope blogging helps.

I called Ziggy my "Zen kitty" because he seemed to roll with things quite well. He was very easy-going. Always present. Accepting. Solid. I got him at the Humane Society September 27, 2000. They think he was about three years old at the time. The note on his cage said he was a "lap cat." He sat on my lap exactly one time. The first night I brought him home!

The past several months, I had noticed a change in his behavior.

He became more affectionate than he ever was. He would meow when I talked to him. He never did this before. Now he was doing it quite regularly. He loved to brush up against my legs as I sat on the toilet. He would hop in the shower after I was done and lick the water beads. I also noticed that the water in his water bowl was going low a lot quicker than it had been and there was much more urine in his litter box. As I talked to friends about him, I got worried that his symptoms might be a sign of diabetes and so I took him to my vet. Indeed, that was the diagnosis. He was put on insulin twice a day. He was much more affectionate during this time and would follow me around more often. He seemed to want to be with me. When I sat in my recliner and read my newspaper, he sat on the table next to the recliner instead of on the couch. He would let me pick him up and hold him and rub his belly and kiss his face. Even before he got sick, he loved to have his ears rubbed. He would turn his head into my hand while I massaged his ear. The whole weight of his head pushed against my palm has I caressed his ears.

It seems he couldn't get enough water even though he drank a lot of it. He even drank hot water from the tub the last few days of his life. The insulin didn't seem to be working for him. He was extremely dehydrated when I took him to the emergency hospital yesterday. His blood sugar levels were literally off the chart. His white blood cell count was high, too. He was just in for a follow-up test a week ago and his blood sugar levels, though still high and requiring insulin, had lowered. I can't account for his rapid downturn. It was such a difficult choice to end his life. The doctor was the best. Emily was with me. I held him in my arms. When the doctor administered the overdose of anesthetic, I felt Ziggy's body go limp within a few seconds. Then he was gone. I am having him cremated and am thinking about what to do with his ashes.

I kept him as an indoor kitty, but I did let him go outside to eat some grass and snow. The tip of his tail was white as snow.
He loved to sit on top of the couch next to the window in the sun. He once brought me a mouse that he caught in the house. He didn't kill it, just brought it to me. That happened twice.

When I first got him he loved to attack the fake mouse seen in this picture. Recently, when I was flossing my teeth over the bathroom sink and he was standing on the toilet tank he pawed at the dangling floss. I remember feeling glad at his playfulness and I lingered with the floss longer than I needed to to get the job done just to enjoy that playfulness.

He was best buddies with his companion, LuLu. I brought LuLu home from the Humane Society for him a couple of months after I adopted Ziggy. LuLu is still with me.



Ziggy did such a fine job of welcoming her home. He was glad to have her. They would clean each other's ears and fur, sleep curled together and chase each other down the hallway late at night.


I love my Ziggy boy, my Zig-Zag. His unconditional love and solid presence are great losses for me.

Every relationship eventually ends. That is the risk of loving. I am so grateful that I have friends and co-workers and family to reach out to for support. Thank you, all. Every word from each of you means a great deal to me.
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More Memories

2/4/09
Last night when I came home from work I found one of Ziggy's pure white whiskers on the dining room floor. In those last months of his life he would sit on the dining room table against the wall while I studied or ate. The last day of his life, he laid on the floor near me all sprawled out with his head supported by the floor instead of sitting upright.

As I looked at the cat tower where he used to sit on the top shelf to look out the front room window, I remembered how I used to call out his name. I'd say, "Hey, Z-i-g-g-y boy!" He'd turn from the window to look at me and I'd blink my eyes open and shut and say to him, "Love blinks, boy! Give me love blinks, Ziggy!" And he would blink back at me returning the love each time I blinked at him.

When I was in the bath a couple of days before his death, he sat on the edge of the tub and reached his paw over to touch my belly. He leaned forward trying to maintain his balance and put the weight of his paws on my belly. He didn't actually sit on me while I was in the tub but he made these gestures.

As I talk to friends about his increasing displays of affection towards me and my returning his affection, it seems as if he was both trying to tell me he loves and that he wasn't feeling well. I don't really know. It's just a story.

I am at peace with the fond memories of our time together and for that I am grateful.