Munchkin

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I had to say goodbye to my 17-year-old cat Munchkin this evening. She’s been deteriorating for some time, at least for a few years now, but the past few months she’s been slipping faster – she was all skin and bones despite eating non-stop, she’d vomit most days, her balance had got much worse and she wasn’t waking up easily from her sleep anymore.

So, I had to make the decision once again, just like Shandy before her. Do I let her suffer? Or do I let her go while she’s still like the cat I’d had for most of my life?

I saw Munch six hours after she was born to our family cat Misty, along with five other kittens. My parents had spent all night while she gave birth and were apparently so excited by the new arrivals that they couldn’t go to bed – when I walked into the living room, they both shushed me while the kittens and mommy snoozed.

Honestly, I don’t remember how Munch ended up being the one out of the litter. I think the story goes that my dad took a shine to her and that was that. I know I originally called her Buttons, but then she ended up being called Munchkin. I still don’t know why.

I know I did the right thing for her. I’m gonna miss that cranky old cat.

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About Claire

Well-groomed tomboy. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I hide it well.
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One Response to Munchkin

  1. Pingback: Pet bereavement – it’s important to grieve | All Mouth, No Spoons

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