Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Gypsy arrived on our doorstep in December about 7 or 8 years ago, when we judged her to be in early middle age - 10 or so. She was absolutely bulging, and we thought she must be pregnant, so we took her in. However, she wasn't and since she never walked more than 50 yds from the house, it was obvious she had been dumped on us . . . She was completely tame and a sweetheart, but had the IQ of ball of cotton wool. She never did learn how to use the cat flap . . . She mixed in well with the cats we had, and was never the least problem. Over the last couple of years she lost weight, drank lots and wee'd lots, so it was obvious that her kidneys were starting to fail. On Monday afternoon I came into the kitchen to find her and the cushion she'd been sleeping on, on the floor, and she'd wet herself (I put it down to the jarring of the fall). She ate her tea and seemed as normal.
Then yesterday morning I came into the kitchen first thing and couldn't see her anywhere. Gosh, I thought, she'd perhaps had a bust up with the latest itinerant arrival (Misery Guts aka Estelle) and been chased through the cat flap. I went outside and called, but no Gypsy in sight.
I searched the kitchen again and found her. She was jammed behind the back leg of the kitchen dresser and I had to move it to ease her out. I put her gently down and she wandered in circles, then keeling over. Poor girl. I think it was a stroke. I quickly got the cat travelling box and popped her in it and phoned the vet to say I was bringing in a cat to be put to sleep. It was obvious that she had come to the end. Poor little girl. She was Danny's favourite, so yet another favourite went to join Tippy, Snowy and Honey . . .
In hindsight, it was for the best, just a bringing forward really of the inevitable because of her kidney problems. Poor Alfie was looking for his Aunty Gypsy today though . . . They were often snuggled up together in recent weeks.