This morning when I woke up, I found Boo in the house perched on my toaster! Boo is my oldest barn cat. He is pitch black and I have had him since he arrived Halloween 1995. He is strictly an outside kitty, his choice when he became a young cat clearly not mine.
He has somehow avoided becoming a statistic and has lived fully in his capacity as head mice hunter of the crew. For him to be in the house AND on the toaster, I knew we were in trouble. So off to the vet we went.
They found an “unusual mass” in his abdomen. His lymph glands are also swollen. While he was being examined, he vomited frothy foam on the table a very bad sign.
We could have done bloodwork to confirm the suspicion but the decision was made instead to just let Boo go off to the Bridge and be out of pain. If I had found him in the barn, perched on a hay bale, I might not have signed that awful paper. But he was in the kitchen on the toaster. I don’t mean to make a bad joke in the midst of my tears but perhaps it was his way of saying “Mom, I’m toast.”
He had a happy life. He climbed trees and never got stuck in them. He grew up with two horses Racer and Traveler and used to walk down my Mustang’s back giving Race a kitty massage. He missed Racer as much as I did when I was forced to sell him four years ago.
He was a good hunter and a great shop cat in his time. He had all the opportunity to come into the house and live the life of a king. Instead, he preferred to sleep on top of Mike’s knives which were under construction in the shop.
Goodbye Boo- you were the best black cat ever. Forgive me for not keeping a better eye on you within the depths of the barn. You were loved and now you are free-
I am sorry for your loss. There seem to be so many these days 🙁
Boo had a good long life, getting to run his own show. He seemed to have lived many years beyond a typical “outdoor” cat. Perhaps Boo made it easier for you to let him go by waiting until he knew it was time to make that final journey. It would seem even in death, he made his own choices. As you have chronicled for your faithful readers, not all your babies have had that opportunity.
He sounded like a wonderful boy, and I am sure he looks down on you tonight with a calm and grateful heart that you loved him enough to allow him the choices he craved.
so sorry that Boo ran for the Bridge. don’t blame yourself….sometimes the best we can do for our outdoor babies is keep an eye out
Boo had at least seventeen years of a good life. He lived it as he wanted, but with you to watch out for him. He clearly knew that something was wrong when he came inside of his own volition. The alternative for him would have been a slow and painful death alone. I suspect that if he could have, he would have told you he’d had the perfect life.