Hellfudge, with love

Thank you, dear friends, for all your lovely comments about Hellfudge. I am very grateful for your support.

I am also grateful that it was so clearly time for her to go. I was afraid of a long decline with no clear decision point, and thankfully that isn't what happened. I mean, she'd been declining for a while, but by Friday it was clear that she was completely done with trying to live. She wouldn't eat or drink a single drop, and she just lay in the weeds at the fence letting bugs crawl on her and breathing slowly. She was so weak. I am sure she would have died over the weekend even if we hadn't taken her in, but I was afraid of what the end might be like--for her AND for us. Evan wasn't as sure, not having had a lot of pets or been through these decisions, so we put the vet on speakerphone. He very kindly explained that there was "no rosy outlook for Hellfudge" and that when faced with this situation he opted to put his dog down rather than waiting for a potentially rough passing, maybe panicking and trying to fix his dog's suffering and have that bad memory at the end. Evan asked a lot of questions about the possibilities and the vet described everything from peaceful to traumatic. I think Evan felt a LOT better about our choice after that conversation. We tried to find someone who could come to our house but it was Friday afternoon and no one was available. Honestly, I don't think Hellfudge cared one whit about being taken to the vet's in the car. Evan drove with her on his lap. I didn't go. The only time they could see her was the same time that Blue gets out of daycare, and I definitely did not want to bring Blue to the vet's. So I held her and talked to her with my throat on her ear (she went completely deaf a couple years ago) and said goodbye. She didn't even look me in the eyes or try to purr. She was on her way. And then she was gone.

I am relieved for her that she wasn't uncomfortable for a long time. She enjoyed great vigor for a cat her age. She always surprised vets when they found out how old she was, and then again when they found out how hard she could fight! She was a beautiful, dainty princess who always posed with her paws together and her tail wrapped around her like a statue, and she was a warrior who could jump five feet in the air to startle people and would tear around the house chasing ghosts and knocking over candles. She came to us bearing pedigree papers and the name "Chanel," which was dismissed immediately in favor of a moniker befitting her true nature. She was afraid of no human or beast; once, a friend brought a German Shepherd to our apartment, and while Stinky hissed from a corner, we were amused to watch the doorway to the hall, where the dog passed by looking worriedly behind him at the fluffy white cat following close behind, back and forth, back and forth past the door. She wanted to check him out but he was a little weirded out so he kept pacing. Once she was lost for two weeks; I was devastated! I checked the shelters every other day and posted color photos of her all over the neighborhood. Finally a girl called; she was on the other side of the block and had rescued Hellfudge and named her Willow. She went on and on about how wonderful "Willow" was, how she'd sleep under the covers with her and let her pet her paws... Yep, that was Hellfudge all right! I went to collect her and the girl had gotten drunk to dull the sorrow of having to give her back. I could understand how hard it would be to give up this blue-eyed queen, whose crossed blue eyes gazed into yours, whose intelligence and grace demanded your respect, who luxuriated under your touch like a temple consort. I've had a lot of pets in my life, but Hellfudge was irreplaceable. I'm so glad to have been her carer and her friend for so long.

Thanks again, everybody. I'm so grateful. There's an empty space on the couch, but we're coping. With love.