The Queen is dead

She died around 4pm yesterday of kidney failure. Although she had been losing weight over the year, and despite a few weeks of remission, her last few days were spent suffering. I couldn't let her continue in agony.

She entered the hospital Tuesday night. At first the diagnosis was "stress" and that more tests would continue the next day, but by Wednesday no progress was made. By Thursday morning I got the call to come to the hospital to see Reina and she looked worse than before, lying there, barely able to move her head. She could no longer meow. After a painful hug and some quiet time alone, where I thanked her for the great 12.5 years together, I let her go.

She was a fighter to the end. As small as she was she took on the big dogs, defending her adopted kittens from the evil dogs.

We don't know how long she had this disease. It was never discovered by the vet the two times she was in the clinic earlier this year. "Hyperthyroidism can hide other diseases" said Dr Davis, the gently doctor who gave Reina the final shot. Reina only had days to live and I couldn't see her lying there, unable to move, barely able to see or respond. Although I could feel her lungs move whenever I called out her name (she always responded with a quiet meow whenever I called her), those final moments were just spent holding her. She felt so cold, so skinny with just her matted fur hiding her skeleton.

She was a good cat, and didn't deserve to die this way. But I have closure with her.

She was always a sickly cat, all her life, and never weighed more than eight pounds. A few days ago she weighed in at barely three. That she lived so long is perhaps a miracle.

I will miss my Queen. I can still see her painful face looking at me through the cage that final hour. Tears swell up in me just remembering her like that.