Wally

We had to say goodbye to Wally yesterday. 

Over the last several years, he’d gotten grumpier and grumpier, often attacking Eddie (who’s his litter mate). He’d also gotten a lot more feeble, not able to jump directly to our desks or the counter, things he did effortlessly when we first moved into this house in 2013.

The last three months were even worse. He started attacking Annie, randomly and with no provocation on her part other than existing. All the things that used to bring him pleasure no longer did. And then the last three or four nights, he started attacking Stevie.

These attacks were violent, not a small hiss fest with a couple of swats. Twice, Stevie ran in terror down the hall, voiding her bladder the whole way. I think if Wally had caught her, he would have tried to kill her. As it was, in addition to the urine we found tufts of her fur scattered down the hall.

We’d taken him to our vet several times during all this. We were convinced that something had to be really wrong, that he was in extreme pain, something was causing this change. But his health was good for a 14 year old cat: very early signs of kidney disease, the start of cataracts, but nothing else.

After Tuesday night’s attack, we realized we were at a decision point. We didn’t think he could be re-homed, he wasn’t nice to anyone but to the two of us. Plus he puked all the time, had always done that (apparently some cats do and his brother Eddie also pukes a lot), and then there were the aggression issues.

Our vet fully supported us with this. He told us yesterday that some cats just never quite get socialized and that with his aggression issues, we were lucky not to have been bitten ourselves. He pointed out that he and the rest of the vets there all knew Wally, that he had a reputation for violence. And I’ll tell you, those middle of the night attacks were definitely scary because Stevie sleeps up by my head. When Wally came screeching up the bed at her, he didn’t pay attention to my face being in the way.

Because he was always a screaming attacking terror at the vet, he was fully sedated when the vet brought him to us before administering the terminal drug. I realized then that I had not seen Wally that relaxed in years. He was always tense, always on edge, always wary. My heart broke and I knew this was for the best.

Even though the vet assured us Wally wouldn’t know if we were with him when he died, we both needed to be there. And I think somewhere in my Ginger Prince’s heart, he knew and felt our love as we stroked his fur and cried and told him we loved him.

Every night when I go to bed, I sit cross legged and read for a bit. And every night, Wally gets in my lap, and Eddie plasters against my right leg and I give them cheek rubs and say “wiki wiki wiki” (like the DJ sound effect) as I rub their faces. Last night, my lap was empty.