Tribute to Hobo

Yesterday was a rough day.

First things first: Hobo is a cat. She turned up on our doorway about 16 years ago asking to be let in, and she decided to stay. We don't know exactly how old she was then. Our best guess is that some idiot city slicker drove her out to the country and let her go. It turned out well for her, but DON'T DO THAT. Seriously, it's incredibly cruel to abandon a domesticated animal, and they're more likely to become coyote bait than be adopted like she was. Anyway, back to the story.

I can haz thing out of frame?

Hobo was always a very companionable cat. She liked to be around people, especially when those people provided her with a lap and devoted their attention to petting her, but she also liked to ride on shoulders or just lurk and offer commentary. She was also a very talkative cat, and could be quite insistent when she wanted attention. This may be the reason she was driven to the middle of nowhere and unceremoniously ejected, actually...

Green soccer ball haz a flavor!

She was a indoor/outdoor cat, not inclined to wander far, but definitely eager to go outside and explore the yard. At one point about 5 years ago, she returned from an outdoors exploration with a nasty cut on her abdomen from an unknown source, and had to be patched up at the vet's office. It didn't look like a cat fight wound or the result of a predator's attack, but rather a clean cut from a sharp metal or glass edge. We still have no idea what caused that.

Don't bother making that bed. I like it the way it is!

She became quite attached to my mother, and they developed a daily habit of my mother writing in her diary while Hobo occupied her lap. She also quickly became accustomed to the routine of getting a wet food treat at night when the cats were all rounded up for a head count and secured indoors. She tended to start offering her reminder meows when darkness fell. Of course, she didn't care whether it was summer or winter. Whenever darkness fell, it meant her nighttime treat was LATE! Who cares if it's 4:00PM!

Is there food up there? I am a poor starving kitty!

This winter, her health took a bizarre turn for the worse. Despite her age, she had remained quite healthy and active. Unfortunately, she developed a sudden case of blindness about a month ago. We still don't know whether she had a stroke, fell from one of her favorite perches in the rafters of the shed, or had some other problem. Our local vet couldn't offer anything beyond the theory that it was neurological.

Not looking very healthy or happy anymore

Hobo was miserable. She got lost, couldn't find her dry food bowl, and seemed to suddenly age. After a week, her eyesight seemed to return at least somewhat, and she was able to bat at laser dots on the floor in front of her, but she soon reverted to even worse blindness and confusion. She eventually couldn't even seem to find her litterbox.

eyes severely dilated all the time, no response to visual stimuli

Before her eyesight recovered the first time, we discussed whether to put her down then, and even when it returned we agreed that should she suffer another bout, it would be better for her to take one last visit to the vet. There's really nothing we could do for an old cat, even if we had the money to spare for specialist veterinarians and whatever courses of treatment here might have been. So yesterday, it was time for one last trip to the veterinarian's office.

Rest in peace, little Hobo-cat

Words can't express how hard this decision was, or how much I am going to miss that fuzzball. Death is a part of life, and asking her to live through suffering we couldn't alleviate wasn't doing her any kindness. Rationalization doesn't ease the burden of grief though.

All photos by me or family members on various phones and cameras over the years