Saying goodbye is hard. But being the person responsible for ending things is a whole other world of acute pain. How do you know the time is right? The battle between loving someone and trying to do the best thing for them is an intense pressure, with death being the consequence of that decision. This week Peter and I had to make the decision to say goodbye to Fin.
My Ex and I adopted Fin (and her sister Bella) from the local vet. We saw their little faces in the local paper in 2004 and fell in love. The vet had removed the majority of their teeth, and each of them were left with only 3 teeth each. The missing canine tooth on Fin's top jaw meant her lip was always slightly lifted. Think Elvis. This look was given the nickname of 'Felvis' - the furry Elvis.
Our home had a big backyard, but I was always anxious about letting the cats roam freely. But on sunny days I wanted to let them explore the garden. One day I got up from the couch and as I stepped through into the kitchen I noticed a few feathers. The back door was wide open so I just assumed they had blown in with some leaves. As I investigated further I noticed the feathers were further inside the house. Following them, I slowly pushed back the partially closed bathroom door. There, in the middle of the bath mat, was Fin. Like a scene from Silence of the Lambs, she sat surrounded by dismembered dove and a wing hanging our of her mouth as she chewed hurriedly. I managed to shoo her out and collected the corners of the mat to carry the remains to the bin outside.
Another time, I was inside and I heard an almighty squawk. Out the corner of my eye I saw Fin racing down the hallway. More frantic squawking. Following her into the spare bedroom I found she had caught a wattlebird! After dropping it, I manoeuvered her out of the room. I closed the door and sat quietly for a moment to try to calm the bird who was freaking out and shitting over everything. I slowly walked towards the window, opening it and pulling back the curtain. The breeze of fresh air meant the bird knew what to do, and flew to freedom. These incidents put a stop to unsupervised outside visits for Fin.
In 2009, my Ex and I split up and Fin and Bella became indoor cats full time, as I moved into a flat. Peter knew what a huge part of my life they were, so sat quietly as they sussed out who this new person was. In the early days Peter's allergies flared up from being around the cats, so his life with us meant a lot of antihistamines. Later that year we noticed Fin was losing weight. This meant a trip to the vet, which is the worst possible thing for Fin. They were lovely to her, but she HATED them. Our sweet purry smoocher turned into a hissing, spitting, yowling, growling monster. We had feared the worst (cancer) but after a few worrying days it was confirmed that Fin had food sensitivities. She would require a special diet.
She was terrified of thunder and hid under our bed at any similar loud noise. But as she got older we began to notice that she stayed sat next to us during storms. Peter was even able to vacuum around her as she sat on the rug. We are pretty sure she was stone deaf! This didn't affect her purring though. Like Bella she was the master of the full body loud purr, even if her meows were silent. We would often joke, as Fin opened her mouth with little or no sound coming out...'what's that Finnie, you'll have to speak up'.
Fin loved to snuggle. In winter she would jump from the bedside table, onto the bed near my pillow. Lifting up the doona, she would walk under the covers, circle round, and settle down next to me. Her front paws on my arm, purring loudly as her head rested either on my arm or the pillow. Another favourite trick was to jump up onto my pillow as we were getting ready for bed. She would lay along the top as I read my book. Turning over, I copped her back feet in my face. I would fall asleep to the sound of purring. In the morning Peter would ask how I slept...'with a cat hat' was a standard response.
Fin would sit on the couch arm next to us. She had a fail safe way of getting our attention. Her front paw would begin tapping you on your arm or shoulder. If this failed, she would lift the paw higher and tap your head. If I continued to talk to Peter she pulled out the big guns and gently pricked the top of your head with a claw while silently meowing! Yes Fin, we see you!
We were worried as both Bella and Fin aged, how they would cope if something happened to one of them. So we introduced a kitten to the house - Callie. Fin found a new playmate, while Bella struggled with being pounced on by the young interloper. We bought toys to try to entertain Callie and to our immense joy, Fin found her inner kitten and played happily on her own. In 2016 Bella succumbed to cancer. This was the moment we had feared. How would Fin cope without her sister? In all honesty, I was upset that she didn't seem more upset. Fin was finally the alpha female in the house! She got priority lap space and loved the additional attention we gave her to make sure she was ok.
A few months later we adopted Pepper. Once you get used to the chaos of three cats, two seems odd. Pepper brought with her lots of energy...and cat flu. Yep - all three needed trips to the vet. Although it was a bumpy introduction, eventually Fin relented and would tolerate Pepper preening her. Although getting older, Fin continued to occasionally play with one of the many toy mice strewn across the living room floor. When we grabbed the 'busy bee' toy (a toy bee on a string tied to a plastic rod), whipping it through the air to entertain Callie and Pepper, Fin would raise a paw tying to grab bee, or jump down into the fray.
Her health was always a concern. Since her sensitive stomach was discovered 10 years ago there were many more trips to the vet. A few years ago she again lost weight. More tests determined her sensitivity had gone up a notch to Inflammatory Bowel Disease. She now needed vet supplied sensitivity wet and dry food. I was told this would most likely develop into cancer. I cried, as both Scully (my first cat) and Bella both died of cancer. But I would be prepared. Further down the track, the food wasn't enough to keep her weight on, so we added cortisone into her routine, along with a powdered probiotic (yes, really!). This helped settle her stomach and stop the diarrhea. Her weight held steady, but if she managed to lick a plate or get a hint of anyone else's food there were messy consequences.
As she aged she stopped looking after her fur. Combing her one night I realised that she had tiny matted dreadlocks on her back legs. I worked to cut and comb them out, while Fin occassionally hissed and swatted me if I'd accidently pulled too hard. Earlier this year her weight dropped again. The only way they could do tests was to sedate her completely, as she was not letting anyone examine her. It was discovered she had hyperthyroidism on top of IBD. More tablets. As she wouldn't allow me to hold her head to medicate her, every morning and night I would take a small knife and grind up her tablets, like small lines of illicit drugs on the kitchen bench. Luckily with this sprinkled over her food she happily ate her meds. Her weight held. In September though, we noticed one of her eyes seemed to squint. She began rubbing it with her front paw. Another trip to the vet announced that she had a lesion in her eye. This couldn't be cured, but would be added to the list of ailments to be managed. So Fin's routine became tablets and eye cream morning and night. Through all this she continued to jump up on my lap and purr. But our elderly girl was slowing down. Her back legs were arthritic, like the suspension gone in the tail end of a car. She was a low rider. She spent her days either sleeping on the couch in the blanket cubby we made her, or over in the afternoon sunshine that streamed in our kitchen window.
About six weeks ago Fin began missing the dirt box. We would wake up to find puddles of wee in the house. We wondered if it was her eye, which was now covered with an opaque layer. Could she see where she was going? Every day we would clean up after her several times. As we watched her, it seemed that she just couldn't hold on. She was also drinking more. I feared the worst. Back to the vet who confirmed it sounded like kidney failure. The only glimmer of hope was if the dosage of meds were putting strain on her kidneys. So for one week we tweaked her dosage to see if it made a difference. My heart sank as I watch my poor girl weeing on the floor, a tide of urine washed over her back legs and tail. I'd scoop her up into the basin, gently tipping water over her back end. A quick towel dry and she was good to go. But words from our vet rang in my ears - 'it's not really fair on her'.
Peter and I had a long talk. The kind you never want to have. After Bella's dash in pain to the emergency vet, we swore we would not put Fin through that. We would be brave and make the call when we needed to. But, looking into the face of an 18 year old cat who is purring loudly on your lap, that decision is heartbreaking. Peter and I returned to the vet a week later. The tweaking had made little difference. We asked what happens as part of kidney failure. A build up of toxins in her system and a slow decline. She could have days or a month left, noone knew. But it would be unpleasant. We looked at our elderly love, who was days away from turning 19. She was deaf, had IBD, hyperthyroidism, and eye lesion, arthritis in her back legs, a heart murmur and now kidney failure. She was held together by tablets and love. Peter, the vet and I talked and we made the heartbreaking decision that the right moment was now. They took Fin out of the room to give her a sedative. The vet (Tania) and nurse (Janelle) returned her, wrapped in a snuggly sheet, giving us time alone with her while she became dozy. Tania held up her arm, showing the scratch Fin had given her, while attempting the injection. They knew Fin when I adopted her from the clinic all those years ago. They had known her longer than me! I mentioned that she was days away from turning 19. Tania looked at me and said 'oh we made up her birthday. We weren't sure how old they were, especially with such bad teeth, so we just guessed'. They gave us a moment alone. We cried, kissed her and stroked her. Returning again, we said Fin was zonked and had done a very wet messy poo on the soft sheet. We all agreed this was another of Fin's messages to show her dislike for the vets! They picked her up to go insert the catheter. Peter and I hugged and cried. I joked saying Fin was probably out the back having a knife fight with the nurses. Tania brought her back and laid her on the table. Another moment to say goodbye. Then the injections were done and Tania listened to Fin's heart as it stopped. More tears. We stroked her as Tania swaddled her in a towel and placed her gently in our carrier. We were taking her home with us.
It was the opposite of Bella. We had time and calmness, rather than a frenzied panic to put Bella out of her pain. But making the decision, is still so profoundly hard. As we drove home I said I couldn't believe they'd made up her birthday! 'She's an enigma wrapped in an attitude, even until the end'. We smiled at each other.
My beautiful tri-colour girl is gone. My companion of 16 years. Apart from some friendships, Fin is my longest relationship. She accompanied me through three house moves and two relationships. People commented on how she always looked like she was wearing eye liner. In the days since, I have looked at the photos I took before heading to the vet. Comparing them to photos from years earlier I was shocked at how frail she looked. She fought for life until the end, finding joy in food, sunshine, snuggles, boxes and naps in blanket forts. And purrs. She purred through all her illnesses.
We miss her presence in the house. The routines based around medication and cleaning up after her. Peter's couch buddy is gone. Pepper in particular, looked for her in the house for a few days. We will all miss her. Her oddball nature and wonderful personality. Luckily we can enjoy photos of her thanks to the unique hashtag accompanying any photo online. Yep - all pets have nicknames, and Fin was Finnie. Or more specifically, Finnie Fanaklepants. Go search for yourselves #finniefanaklepants
I have a cat tattoo on my right leg which I got over 5 years ago. We based the colourings on Fin. She will be with me always. People always spelt her name wrong, adding an additional N at the end (Finn). We adopted her with this name and had often wondered about the spelling. She had a large white diamond along her back, and I was able to spike it up like a full body mohawk. Was she named after a dorsal fin? Then one day I saw her name come up in the credits of a movie. Fin. The End. Could it be? Perhaps her original owner just spelt if differently. An enigma wrapped in an attitude. Until the end. Fin.
Addendum:
In the weeks since I wrote this we have thought of more weird and uniquely Fin things to add. This blog is a lovely place to park my memories of her, so indulge me as I add a little more.
Many cats love human food, but Fin wasn't hugely interested in what we ate, except for cantaloupe! As soon as it was out of the fridge she was circling. I always had to cut up enough for us and then additional smaller pieces for her bowl! She was also quite enamoured with the smell of celery! Upon bringing our groceries home, she would be up on the bench rubbing her head on the leafy celery stalks.
She developed such a fetish for rubbing her head on things. We were unable to leave anything unattended on our coffee table. Mugs, bottles, cans, boxes, books, tea light holders. Anything with a good point or firm surface was fair game. Occasionally we'd be woken up in the middle of the night, hearing a bang from upstairs. In the morning we'd find a glass drink bottle or jar which had been rubbed onto the floor.
Getting her cremated was a little complicated thanks to covid. But we eventually had her delivered home and she is reunited with Bella.
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