Dear Floyd,
Do you know how much you are missed? I hope you are watching from above and can see how many pictures there are of you in the house – by my side of the bed where you slept, on the fireplace mantle, in the hallway – and of course stuck in my phone. I hope you can hear us saying how much we miss you and that we say goodnight to you every night. The void in the house without you is so obvious. You are not relaxing in front of the fireplace anymore. You are not jumping on the counters saying hi and telling us how your day was in your sweet little hoarse voice. You are not peeking through the stair rails into the kitchen or jumping onto the chair from the landing. You are not there at night to cuddle in my arms. You are not watching out for that pesky rogue mouse that sometimes makes its way inside. You were the best mouser. You could hear them before they even got inside, and you camped out all night by the stove just waiting. One time I caught you in the act of mousing and you played with the mouse for a long time! But we always knew our pantry of food was safe from those pests because of you.
Your story goes like this. You were born on 5-6-7 at the Bonnie L. Hays Animal Shelter in Hillsboro, Oregon. Your kitty mama (Lily) was dropped off there the night before because she was pregnant and someone didn’t want her and her four soon to be born babies. I was a kitty foster mom at the time and on the shelter’s call list. The shelter called me and asked if I could foster the mama and four babies that were born the night before. I said of course, and went and picked you all up on May 7, 2007. I had fostered some kitties before and was so excited that there was a “Floyd” kitty in the litter. A “Floyd” kitty has black and white (tuxedo markings) with a white chin and chest and white belly and paws like socks. You were my third “Floyd” kitty, and I knew instantly that I would be keeping you. I kept you and your mama kitty and three siblings (Muffin, Nellie, and Minnie) in the garage in a large dog crate. Your mama kitty was very sweet and attentive to all of you and you all were so much fun as you grew. Once you all reached two pounds, it was time to take you back to the shelter for adoption. Once you were “fixed” you could be adopted. So we adopted you and Muffin and you both came home with us after your procedures. We also had Tipper (adopted from the shelter in 2003) and Princess (fostered from the shelter in 2004), and they both started getting used to you and Muffin after a long while.
You were always healthy, and I always took you to the vet for your check ups and vaccines. On December 31, 2016, something odd happened. You jumped up onto the landing like you always used to do, and I looked at you and your left pupil was really small and the right one was big. It looked very strange. So I called the vet and they wanted me to bring you in right away. They did lots of tests and finally came back with the diagnosis of Horner’s Syndrome. To this day, there was no reason that we could find as to why this happened. Shortly after that happened, a lump was found in your neck. The vet told me it was cancer, it was terminal, and there was nothing they could do about it. They could do surgery, but they did not want to cut open your neck in that area. I opted to get a second, third, and fourth opinion – emailing and calling other vets and sending them your records and x-rays. Finally, one vet, Dr. Keith Gordon at the Cornell Road Veterinary Clinic, called me and said he cuts open cats necks “all the time!” I said “great!” So we scheduled surgery for you in March of 2017. All went well and Dr. Gordon was able to take the cyst our of your neck and run a biopsy on it. I’ll never forget when I picked you up after surgery how I called your name and you stood up in your cage and meowed and were so happy to see me. Your little voice was hoarse from the surgery and you were wobbly on your feet, but you wanted to go home! Your neck was shaved and you had a huge red cut and stitches, but I was able to take you home and you wobbled around and meowed and ate your food and gave your loves. Dr. Gordon finally found out that the cyst was a fungus (aspergillis), so we put you on anti-fungal meds for awhile so it wouldn’t come back. Again, that was a very strange phenomenon to occur in a cat, but we took care of it and thought we would have you around for a very long time. After all, what else could possibly go wrong?
In October 2018, you went for a routine vet visit and the doctor did all the necessary tests to make sure you were healthy. You were very healthy although you had lost a little bit of weight, so Dr. Gordon said to “fatten him up,” so I did by feeding you constantly. You never fattened up (Muffin may have though with all that free food). It was strange because all of your bloodwork was nearly perfect – nothing to indicate a thyroid or kidney problem that would be the obvious cause of the lost weight. You continued to not gain weight and possibly lose more weight, although it was hard to weigh you. In early December 2018, you were on my chest doing your kneading and your claw got stuck in my shirt and you meowed in pain. I could not find anything wrong with your paw, but it kept happening. Everyday your claw would get stuck in something and you would meow in pain. I took you to see Dr. Gordon and lots of tests were done. They ended up trimming your nails and some other things. At the very end of the visit it happened again, and the vet was able to look more closely at your paw and see a small ulceration on one of your claws. We took some antibiotics and pain killers home and tried those. Nothing worked to clear up the ulcer, and by that time another sore was developing on another paw in the back. You had been shaking your back leg like it had a bug on it. I looked at it and sure enough another sore was developing on a claw. More vet visits and x-rays and we tried some stronger antibiotics. Those did not work either. There was something on the x-ray on your lung, but it was hard to see. More tests needed to be done. I dropped you off with Dr. Gordon one morning so he could do some further testing while you were sedated. By then, three paws had ulcerations in the claws and it was getting painful for you to walk. Dr. Gordon did x-rays, ultrasounds, blood tests in your paws, and whatever else. I took you home and waited for news that I feared would be bad. In the meantime, you had more and more trouble walking and climbing the stairs. You limped. Nothing would help. In early January 2019, I got the call from Dr. Gordon that you had cancer. A lung cancer called lung-digit syndrome. It was a fatal disease. I opted to put you on steroids to help with the swelling and pain and keep you comfortable for the little time you had left. The Prednisone seemed to help at first, but your little body could not handle the rapid toll the disease was taking. Everyday was more and more painful for you. You always made it to the litter box even though you could barely walk and had to rest in between walks. I knew I had to make the painful decision to say goodbye. I did not want you to suffer longer than necessary. You had not been able to climb the stairs any longer and I slept downstairs with you for two nights so you would not get hurt. On February 6, 2019, a lovely vet named Dr. Jessika from Compassionate Care came over to help me say goodbye to you. You had not eaten at all that day, and I was so scared. You drank a little water and just slept in your spot by the fireplace all day. We took some pictures together and I told you stories. You passed away at 12:18 p.m. on February 6, 2019. I have cried almost every day since then and miss you more than I can say, and so does Carl. I have your ashes and some fur and all my memories, but you will be missed for life, my dear sweet Floyd. I loved you your whole life. I will miss you for the rest of mine.
