Brownie: July 4, 1993 - August 11, 2009

Yesterday we lost our furry child. In December of 2007, his lab work revealed that he was experiencing loss of kidney function. Brownie was lucky to be an exceptionally "robust" cat, weighing in at 18 pounds in his prime, because he later managed a nine pound weight loss without too many consequences. (Recall the hunger strike he waged when the girls came home from the hospital.) About a week ago, he basically stopped eating. Skip (shhh... he says he will never admit to this) had been attempting to feed him the delicacies of gourmet cat food, with a spoon, with no appreciable result.

I talked with Brownie last Wednesday, a week ago. At first I told him that he absolutely could not go, that we had a family, that he was part of it, and that he was important to me and all of us (the girls always ask "Where's Brownie?" when heading to "Silver Car," or "Red Car"). He was just so old and so frail. After spending some really good quality time with him, I told him that he had been a wonderful pet, a really good and loyal friend, and that it was ok if he needed to go. He began really declining over the next 72 hours.

Yesterday, we took him to the vet, and I think it's a fair statement to say that I was in complete denial about his situation, realizing that there was nothing that we could do to change the circumstances. Also, I have talked with a few people who had cats who lived to be 18 and even 20 years old. Therefore, I refused to imagine a scenario that did not include a full 20 years. After extensive lab work, the vet -- a very compassionate, empathetic professional -- confirmed that his kidney function had declined to approximately 15% functionality. Brownie's prognosis was not good to say the least; he would likely not make it through the week. We made the very painful decision to avoid additional discomfort and the suffering that would inevitably occur. We wanted Brownie to be at rest -- not suffer -- and to spend his final moments being loved.

By the way, someone should really champion veterinarian medicine for the availability of organ donation.

So. Anyway. If you have seen the movie "Marley & Me," you can imagine how our Tuesday afternoon was spent. It was spent with me saying, "But, I thought I had four more years," and with the vet explaining lab numbers and obviously hoping that I not make the decision to leave with him to suffer senselessly. He did not suffer. He went to sleep while we were petting him and telling him that he was the very best pet ever.

We will miss him.

Below is a pictorial tribute to Brownie, covering the last 3 years. I realize this is a lot of photos for a cat, and that this type of thing puts me dangerously into "cat lady" territory. However, I was cheated out of four years so I am going to indulge in extra photos.
:-)

This captures Brownie's sentiments about the girls, i.e., you can bring home as many babies as you like, but I won't yield my spot!



Surveying the Christmas loot



A favorite place to nap in the guest room



Trying to relax on the floor, but staying on baby alert



Enjoying an early play date



Brownie enjoyed the playground area as much as the girls





Getting some affection from Gracie



"What is this supposed to be?"



Despite the initial rejection, Brownie quickly became enamored of the girls and tolerated ear-pulling, tail pulling and various other displays of affection.





Lending support to Lauren




More napping. It would be easy to joke about his sleeping habits (18 hours per day), but he took innumerous naps with me when I was pregnant so I am giving him a pass on being slothful.



On the outside looking in



On patrol at the swings



Pool-side