From my husband about Poppy, our barn cat:
A cat story:
When we first moved to Missouri in 2009, we had another month before closing on a house, so we moved into a hotel and all our pets were boarded at a vet. On the second day, we stopped at Walmart for some supplies. As we got out of the car, a kitten ran under the car.
Ruthlynn wanted to rescue it, but I protested saying that we didn't even have a home yet.
We compromised, deciding if it was still under our car when we were done shopping, we would take care of it. After shopping, it was still there. When she pulled it out, she noticed that it was covered in oil and its intestines were hanging out of its rear end. Evidently, it had been run over (not by us).
We hurried it to the vet who popped the intestines back in and stitched him up. We named him "Poppy" because of that. The vet kept him next to dogs for the next month, until we moved in.
When we moved in, he spent more time with the dogs than the cats and acted like a dog. He spent as much time as possible outside. Whenever we walked out of the house, he would run up, meow to be pet, and escort us around, even to the far corners of our woods. He was our pasture pal. He would even climb the trees and meow until we acknowledged him.
When we fostered kittens, he would spar with them and teach them to fight. We have a rug called the "Poppy Dojo" where the male cats would entertain us with their sparing.
About a year ago, Poppy became a bit less responsive. His appetite decreased and he started losing weight. When he started to get really thin, we brought him to two separate vets who could find nothing wrong. Poppy continued to lose weight and eventually quit eating and drinking all together. That was a week ago.
We've been watching him decline, checking on him throughout the day and night to make sure he was comfortable and alive. At one point, when he could barely stand, he headed outside and disappeared towards the woods. We hoped he was going to die on his own terms. But, he showed back up around dusk, ready to come back in.
Tonight he fell down the stairs, was yowling in pain and twitching. We didn't want him to die in pain, so we decided to have him euthanized while the vet was still open. Ironically, it was the same vet who put his intestines back in nearly a decade ago.
Losing a pet is the hardest part of owning one. But, we are thankful for the time we had with him and we feel good that we gave him a good life. His passing teaches us to value the time we have in this world.