I Thought We Would Have More Time Before I Had to Write This Frankie Post

As I mentioned in some of my posts, Frankie had been having some health problems.  He had hyperthyroid, kidney disease, and most likely lymphoma.  We weren’t pursuing aggressive treatment and chose to focus on his quality of life. 

He was losing weight but still eating, and he didn’t seem to be in pain.  We took him for thyroid testing on December 27^th, and his weight was down a little, but the bloodwork showed that the thyroid medication was helping. 

At around 1:00 pm on January 5^th, when I was working from home, Frankie collapsed in the living room.  He had eaten his breakfast that morning, had been in a chair looking out the window, then went and spent some time in their little cardboard scratch house.  He came out of the house and just collapsed.

I picked him up, and he was limp.  He was breathing, but he was limp.  I called Nick and the vet’s office.  Dr. D isn’t in the office on Fridays, and the vet who was covering her (that I’m not overly fond of anyway) was out of the office, so they told us to go to the emergency vet.  We called to say we were on the way and rushed to the emergency vet. 

I held Frankie, wrapped in one of his favorite blankets, and Nick and I both talked to him and told him what a good cat he was and how much we loved him. 

Frankie died in my arms as we were handing him to the vet staff.  They took him back, but there was nothing to be done at that point.  It wasn’t very long before they came into the room and told us he was gone.  They were extremely kind and brought him back into the room and gave us time to be with him before they came in and asked how we wanted to handle his body.

We’ve opted for cremation with all of our pets, so we knew we were going that route.  We keep everyone’s ashes together, and there’s some measure of closure when we bring them home.  I really wanted to take Frankie to Dr. D’s office for that.  They’re wonderful at the emergency vet, but it’s just not the same as at Dr. D’s office where they knew Frankie and know us.  Nick called and arranged for us to take Frankie to Dr. D's office. 

As soon as we walked in with him at Dr. D’s office, I knew we had made the right decision.  They took him, wrapped in his blanket, and promised to take care of him, and told us how much they would miss seeing him. 

Frankie’s ashes are home now, and we’re slowly adjusting to our new normal of only having four cats.

My dad said he always thought Frankie was the most interesting cat we’d ever had, and that was a great way to describe Frankie. 

He was obsessed with hair products, particularly gels and pastes.  I don’t use a lot of hair products, and he was always delighted whenever someone who does came over.  He loved sniffing my mom’s hair, he loved his Aunt Gabby’s hair even more, and his Aunt Amy’s hair was the absolute best.  I had short hair when we got Frankie, and when he was little, any time someone with long hair came over, he would always play with their hair.

Frankie never found a box or a bag that he didn’t want to get in.

He was the smallest kitten we’ve ever had.  He was even still fuzzy when we brought him home.

Frankie was also one of the wildest kittens we’ve ever had.  He’s asleep in most of his kitten pictures because that was usually the only time we could get a picture of him that wasn’t blurry. 

He only had 14 years, but I think they were good years.  At times, I wonder if we should have been more aggressive in his treatment and maybe had more time, but then I remember how much he hated the vet and taking medication.  I really don’t think he was in pain, even on his last day.  He did things he loved doing that day.  So that makes me think that maybe we made the right choice, even if it’s the one that ultimately broke our hearts a little sooner.